HERITAGE  OF  PERIL 


He  made  a  quick  movement  as  if  to  strike  the  cup  from  her  hand. 

Page  66. 


THE  HERITAGE 
OF    PERIL 

Ey    ARTHUR    W.    MARCHMONT 

AUTHOR   OF   "BY   RIGHT   OF   SWORD" 
AND    "A    DASH    FOR    A    THRONE*' 

Illustrations  by    EDITH    LESLIE    LANG 


GROSSET     6f     DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS      :      :       NEW     YORK 


Copyright,  1900 

by 
NEW  AMSTERDAM  BOOK  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 


PROLOGUE  PAGE 

THE  HERITAGE •         «         .         7 

CHAPTER  I 

THE   PROSPECT   OF    PERIL Ip 

CHAPTER  II 

THE  COUNT  DE  MONTALT »          ,       27 

CHAPTER  III 

"YOU    ARE    ROLANDE    LESPARD " 36 

CHAPTER  IV 

A    BRIBE 46 

CHAPTER  V 

A  DARING    ATTEMPT 58 

CHAPTER  VI 

A  RECKLESS    ENEMY .       6? 

CHAPTER  VII 

"  I  WANT  TO  KNOW  ALSO  WHO  YOU  ARE  " 77 

CHAPTER  VIII 

AN  OMINOUS    MEETING 88 

CHAPTER  IX 

"  I  KNOW  YOUR  WHOLE  STORY  " 99 

CHAPTER  X 

THE  SHADOW  OF  THE  PAST 107 

CHAPTER  XI 

THE   STORY    OF    RED    DELILAH  ....  *          .      Il6 

CHAPTER  XII 

TOM   CHERlTOll's    SUSPICIONS 127 

CHAPTER  XIII 

AN  IMPORTANT   INTERVIEW 137 


1136988 


6  Contents 

CHAPTER  XIV  PAGE 

THE   TRUTH J48 

CHAPTER  XV 

BESSIE'S  RESOLVE 156 

CHAPTER  XVI 

TOM    CHERITON     INTERVENES I7O 

CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   COUNT'S    NEXT    MOVE l8o 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

CLOSING    IN 192 

CHAPTER  XIX 
DESSIE'S  VISITOR 203 

CHAPTER  XX 

DAPHNE  AGAIN 214 

CHAPTER  XXI 

THE    COUNT'S    PLANS 225 

CHAPTER  XXII 

A    LAST    DEVICE 234 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

TRAPPED 244 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

IN   THE    HAND   OF    THE    ENEMY 254 

CHAPTER  XXV 

FACE   TO    FACE 262 

CHAPTER  XXVI 
DAPHNE'S  STORY 273 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

WITH   INTENT    TO    MURDER 283 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 

A  GRIP  OF  DEATH 2Q2 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

CONCLUSION  .* 301 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

He  made  a  quick  movement  as  if  to  strike  the  cup  from  her 
hand.  Frontispiece. 

She  stood  gripping  the  back  of  a  chair  and  fighting  for  calm- 
ness. Page  26. 

"  He'll  be  dead  in  an  hour — by  nine,  say."    Page  33. 

He  commenced  instantly  to  overhaul  its  contents.    Page  92. 

"  Tell  me  the  truth,  for  Heaven's  sake,  Daphne."     Page  147. 

"  Here  constable,  this  lady  has  been  robbed."      Page  165. 

"  Stop  where  you  are  if  you  want  to  live !  "     Page  233. 

The  flash  of  a  revolver  almost  blinded  him.    Page  291. 


THE  HERITAGE  OF  PERIL 


PROLOGUE 

THE  HERITAGE 

IN  the  ladies'  room  on  the  Midland  platform  of  the 
great  New  Street  Station,  Birmingham,  one  March  after- 
noon, Dessie  Merrion  sat  waiting  for  her  train,  and 
watching  with  strongly-roused  interest  a  well-dressed 
woman  who  was  her  only  companion  in  the  room. 

The  girl  was  about  one  and  twenty ;  quick  and  capable 
in  looks,  and  her  small,  regular  features  and  her  gen- 
eral manner  suggested  considerable  independence,  self- 
resource,  and  natural  capacity.  Knitting  needles  were 
clicking  swiftly  in  her  deft  fingers,  and  thus  without 
waste  of  time  she  could  watch  her  companion  out  of  her 
shrewd  grey  eyes. 

The  two  had  been  almost  alone  in  the  room  for  nearly 
half  an  hour,  and  during  the  time  the  girl  had  made  one 
or  two  little  approaches  to  conversation;  but  these  had 
met  with  such  a  quiet  though  effectual  repulse  that  she 
had  accepted  the  defeat  with  a  smile  at  the  elder  woman's 
tact.  This  had  rather  increased  than  lessened  her  in- 
terest in  the  woman,  however,  and  this  feeling  had  been 
still  further  heightened  by  the  great  contrast  which  she 
thought  she  could  perceive  between  the  woman  and  a 
man,  who  was  apparently  her  travelling  companion. 

She  had  read  the  woman  as  sympathetic,  gentle,  re- 
fined, and  endowed  with  more  than  a  touch  of  true  wom- 
anly sweetness ;  but  the  man  was  as  repulsive  as  he  was 
handsome;  and  when  he  came  to  the  door  of  the  room 


8  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

Dessie  had  conceived  an  instinctive  but  violent  repug- 
nance and  dread  of  the  brutal  qualities  which  she  thought 
she  could  detect  in  his  character. 

Such  a  companionship  puzzled  the  girl ;  and  as  she  de- 
lighted in  problems  of  the  kind,  she  was  sorry  when  a 
porter  came  to  say  that  her  train  was  coming  in.  She 
put  away  her  knitting,  gathered  up  her  very  scanty  be- 
longings, and  followed  the  porter  out  of  the  room,  giving 
her  companion  a  smile  and  a  pleasant  "  Good  afternoon  " 
as  she  passed. 

The  instant  she  stepped  on  to  the  platform  her  quick 
eyes  caught  sight  of  a  furious  struggle  that  was  going  on 
at  the  far  end,  the  central  figure  of  which  was  the  com- 
panion of  the  woman  in  the  waiting-room.  Less  than 
half  a  minute's  observation  told  her  what  it  meant;  and 
she  had  barely  formed  her  conclusion  before  she  saw 
handcuffs  slipped  over  the  man's  wrists,  and  knew  that 
he  had  been  arrested. 

Being  a  girl  of  prompt  resource,  Dessie  turned  in- 
stantly, filled  with  pity  for  the  woman  whose  looks  had  so 
interested  her,  and  hurried  back  to  warn  her.  She  was 
still  alone,  and  when  she  heard  the  rapidly  told  news  she 
turned  dead  white  and  trembled,  looking  as  though  she 
would  faint.  But  a  violent  effort  gave  her  self-possession 
enough  to  listen  to  and  take  Bessie's  urgent  advice  that 
she  should  fly  at  once.  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  with 
hasty  and  somewhat  hysterical  and  incoherent  thanks, 
rushed  out  of  the  room  by  the  door  on  the  opposite  side 
from  the  platform. 

The  girl  had  then  to  hurry  to  catch  her  train,  and  as 
her  carriage  glided  out  of  the  station  she  saw  the  little 
group  of  men  still  at  the  end  of  the  platform,  the  man 
with  the  handcuffs  standing  in  the  centre,  his  tall  form 
towering  over  the  others,  while  his  dark,  handsome  face 


Prologue  9 

looked  so  evil  and  brutal  and  menacing  that  Dessie  was 
glad  she  had  been  able  to  help  the  woman  to  escape,  and 
said  to  herself  that  she  would  not  be  in  such  a  man's 
power  for  all  that  the  world  contained. 

She  was  more  than  ever  puzzled  by  the  problem  of  such 
a  strange  companionship,  and  sat  lost  in  speculation  and 
wonder  as  to  its  meaning.  A  minute  or  two  later,  she 
took  down  her  handbag  to  get  her  knitting,  and  then 
she  made  a  very  unpleasant  discovery. 

In  the  hurry  of  warning  the  woman  in  the  waiting- 
room,  and  in  the  excitement  that  followed,  they  had 
changed  hand-bags. 

The  mishap  vexed  the  girl  greatly,  and  in  some  respects 
was  rather  a  serious  thing.  Her  own  bag  had  contained 
a  number  of  little  things  which  were  of  no  value,  but  of 
great  use;  while  one  loss  was  considerable — her  purse. 
Her  ticket  would  have  gone,  too,  had  it  not  been  that  she 
had  taken  it  out  of  her  purse,  and  slipped  it  into  her  glove, 
to  be  in  readiness.  But  the  stupidity  of  the  thing  irritated 
her  more  than  the  loss. 

"  If  this  is  the  way  I  am  going  to  fight  my  new  battle," 
she  said  to  herself,  in  her  vexation,  "  I  may  as  well  give 
it  up  at  the  start."  But  her  practical  common  sense  as- 
serted itself  as  she  thought  further.  "  My  name — at  least 
the  name,  Dessie  Merrion — is  in  the  bag,  and  the  name 
and  address  of  the  people  to  whom  I  am  going ;  so  that, 
unless  that  woman  is  very  different  from  what  I  think, 
she'll  send  it  back  to  me.  It's  lucky  there's  nothing  in 
it  to  connect  me  with  the  past,  though  even  if  there  had 
been,  she  could  hardly  do  much,  after  what  I've  seen  to- 
day. What  a  coincidence  that  two  women  so  placed, 
each  at  the  turning  corner  of  life,  should  jostle  one 
another  for  a  moment  at  a  railway  station.  I  wonder 
whether  she  would  have  repulsed  me  as  she  did  if  she  had 


I  o  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

known,  or  whether  her  kinder  nature  would  have  spared 
me  a  word  of  good  cheer.  I  should  have  liked  one  from 
her." 

Then  the  girl  leant  back  in  the  carriage  to  think. 

She  was,  indeed,  at  the  turning  corner  of  life,  as  she 
had  said.  She  was  flying  from  a  past  which  the  crime, 
sin,  and  shame  of  others  had  gloomed  and  darkened.  In 
bitter  experiences,  she  was  twice  her  age,  and  if  vicious 
allurements  and  surroundings,  evil  counsel  and  tempta- 
tion could  have  dragged  her  down,  she  would  have  fallen. 
But  her  innate  purity  had  carried  her  through  all  un- 
scathed. She  had  stayed  by  her  mother's  side  until  the 
latter's  death  had  set  her  free  to  act  for  herself,  but  with 
a  chain  of  secret  sorrow  to  drag  heavily  at  her  heels. 

She  had  cut  herself  adrift  from  the  old  life  with  one 
shrewd  stroke.  She  had  assumed  a  name  that  was  un- 
tainted by  the  evil  repute  that  attached  to  her  own,  and 
had  started,  as  she  then  believed  a  girl  could  most  easily 
start,  by  obtaining  a  situation  as  nursery  governess.  She 
was  on  her  way  to  this — the  family  being  that  of  a 
builder's  wife,  named  Barker,  at  Hendon — when  she  met 
with  the  adventure  at  Birmingham. 

Something  of  what  the  adventure  might  mean  to  her 
she  began  to  understand  a  little  later,  when  she  roused 
herself  from  her  reverie  and  began  to  examine  the  hand- 
bag which  she  had  brought  away  in  mistake. 

Her  first  thought  was  to  look  for  some  clue  to  the  iden- 
tity of  the  owner,  in  order  to  write  to  her;  but  the  bag 
contained  nothing  in  the  nature  of  such  a  clue.  Besides 
a  very  few  of  the  trifles  which  women  carry  on  a  journey 
— a  piece  of  tatting  work,  some  hairpins,  a  button  hook, 
etc.,  etc. — she  found  in  it  a  handkerchief,  new  and  un- 
marked ;  a  pair  of  gloves,  also  new ;  a  beautiful  and  costly 
ivory  case  of  needlework  requisites — quite  out  of  char- 


Prologue  1 1 

acter  with  the  bag  itself  and  everything  in  it ;  an  envelope 
with  a  curl  of  golden  hair — a  child's;  a  child's  photo- 
graph, much  thumbed  and  broken  at  the  corners,  and 
stained  as  if  with  blistering  tears.  The  girl  gazed  at  this 
with  the  wistful  half-sad  intensity  of  a  woman  in  whom 
the  instincts  of  maternity  were  strong.  Then  thinking 
she  could  trace  in  the  child's  face  the  look  which  she  had 
seen  in  the  woman's  eyes,  she  smiled  to  it,  as  if  the  little 
thing  could  understand,  and  kissed  the  face. 

The  last  thing  she  scrutinised  was  the  most  incon- 
gruous of  all — an  old,  large,  shabby  leather  cigar  case,  one 
side  of  which  was  much  bulged  out  by  the  contents. 

It  was  as  ill-fitted  a  companion  for  the  lovely,  dainty 
needlework  case  as  the  respective  owners  had  seemed 
to  be  to  each  other. 

She  opened  it,  and  what  she  had  seen  of  the  man  deter- 
mined her  to  examine  it  closely.  On  one  side  there  were 
two  cigars;  very  good  and  costly,  as  the  girl  was  suffi- 
cient judge  to  know.  She  scanned  them  closely,  and  then 
peered  down  into  the  empty  side  from  which  she  had 
taken  them.  But  her  curiosity  was  much  more  eager 
concerning  a  very  thick  cake  of  tobacco,  which  was  in  the 
opposite  side  of  the  case,  and  had  caused  the  bulge  that 
had  attracted  her  notice. 

She  drew  it  out  carefully,  and  then  examined  it  with 
the  most  scrupulous  minuteness.  She  knew  that  she  was 
handling  the  property  of  a  scoundrel,  and  her  old  associa- 
tions inclined  her  to  suspect  it  was  there  for  a  special  pur- 
pose. Her  sharp  eyes  soon  detected  a  crack  in  the  to- 
bacco, and  a  very  little  manoeuvring  and  working  enabled 
her  to  see  that  it  was  a  cunningly-contrived  hiding-place. 

As  she  opened  it  she  gave  vent  to  a  low  exclamation. 

Artfully  hidden  in  it  was  a  piece  of  tarnished  gold,  in 
which  were  set  three  huge  red  stones.  The  girl,  who 


12  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

knew  something  of  jewels,  believed  them  to  be  rubies  of 
the  purest  water,  and  knew  that  if  genuine,  they  were 
worth  thousands  of  pounds. 

As  she  looked  at  them  she  almost  held  her  breath  in 
mingled  astonishment,  admiration  and  bewilderment. 

Her  first  thought  was  of  the  temptation  which  such  a 
possession  constituted.  She  had  but  to  discontinue  her 
journey,  turn  back,  and  take  the  jewels  where  she  knew 
well  they  could  be  disposed  of,  and  they  would  bring 
enough  money  to  keep  her  beyond  the  reach  of  trouble  all 
her  life.  The  drudgery  to  which  she  was  willingly  and 
intentionally  going  would  be  unnecessary;  and  in  its 
place  ease,  comfort,  and  independence  would  be  in  her 
reach.  Moreover,  she  could  do  it  with  almost  absolute 
safety.  She  was  going  in  an  assumed  name  to  a  place 
where  not  a  soul  knew  her  by  sight ;  and  the  trail  could 
be  cut  without  the  least  difficulty,  and  with  only  the  re- 
motest chance  of  her  being  found. 

But  the  temptation  never  held  her  for  a  moment.  She 
hated  crime  and  wrong-doing  in  every  shape,  and  would 
as  soon  have  leapt  out  of  the  train  as  have  turned  back  to 
the  life  which  had  always  been  so  hateful  to  her. 

Then  the  temptation  took  a  subtler  form.  It  might  be 
all  but  impossible  for  Dessie  to  get  rid  of  the  jewels.  She 
could  give  them  back,  of  course,  into  the  hands  of  the 
woman  in  whose  bag  they  were ;  but  would  this  be  possi- 
ble? She  could  read  part  of  the  riddle,  she  thought. 
Whatever  might  be  the  nature  of  the  companionship  of 
the  strange  couple  whose  path  she  had  crossed  that  day, 
the  man  was  a  scoundrel,  probably  a  thief,  and  these 
jewels  were  no  doubt  the  proceeds  of  some  robbery  which 
he  dared  not  get  rid  of  for  a  while.  Possibly  he  had  an- 
ticipated the  arrest  which  had  taken  place,  and  had  put 
the  cigar-case  into  the,  woman's  bag  for  safety;  and  it 


Prologue  1 3 

would  depend  upon  their  relations  whether  the  woman 
herself  knew  they  were  there.  So  far  as  that  was  con- 
cerned, Dessie  could  only  wait  for  some  communication. 

Meanwhile,  her  own  position  was  one  of  extreme  per- 
plexity. The  woman  who  had  her  bag  had  her  address 
also,  and  thus  could  trace  her  if  she  went  on  to  Mrs. 
Barker's.  If  she  gave  up  the  rubies,  therefore,  to  anyone 
but  to  her,  she  must  have  some  kind  of  proof  in  writing 
of  what  she  had  done  with  them.  She  knew  quite  well 
what  she  ought  to  do :  Call  the  station  master  at  the  next 
station,  give  him  the  bag,  and  tell  him  what  had  happened. 
But  that  could  have  but  one  effect.  The  moment  the 
jewels  got  into  the  hands  of  the  police,  they  would  ques- 
tion her  closely,  and  in  such  an  examination  there  was  no 
chance  whatever  of  escaping  an  inquiry  into  her  antece- 
dents and  past  life.  That  meant  absolute  ruin,  so  far  as 
concerned  her  present  chance,  which  she  had  only  ob- 
tained with  the  greatest  difficulty.  Come  what  might, 
she  shut  that  course  out,  therefore,  as  impossible. 

Another  possible  course  was  to  send  the  jewels  anony- 
mously to  the  police,  say  at  Birmingham,  through  the 
post.  But  from  that  she  was  cut  off  by  the  fact  that  the 
owner  of  the  bag  could  trace  her  easily ;  and  the  result  of 
such  a  step  by  her,  if  the  woman  made  a  fuss,  would  be 
worse  than  the  first. 

Thus  the  irksome  heritage  of  the  jewels  thrust  her  upon 
this  dilemma.  She  must  either  keep  them  for  the  present 
or  by  returning  them,  face  exposure  and  the  probability 
of  ruin.  She  chose  the  former  course,  and  having 
chosen,  she  put  back  the  rubies  in  their  hiding-place,  and 
covering  up  the  cigar  case  so  that  no  chance  prying  eye 
should  see  that  she  possessed  so  strange  a  piece  of  un- 
girlish  property,  she  set  herself  to  think  out  her  best 
course. 


14  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

She  calculated  that  she  could  not  hear  from  the  owner 
of  the  bag  in  less  than  two  days  at  least;  perhaps  she 
would  come  in  person  in  search  of  the  rubies;  and  until 
then  the  best  way  was  the  simplest — just  to  let  everything 
go  on  as  it  would  have  gone,  had  she  not  unexpectedly 
succeeded  to  this  most  embarrassing  heritage  of  prob- 
ably stolen  property.  When  she  knew  more,  she  could 
lay  further  plans. 

It  was  not,  however,  until  the  fourth  day  that  she 
heard  anything ;  and  then  her  own  bag  was  returned  with 
the  contents  intact  and  a  letter.  But  the  letter  had  neither 
address  nor  name,  and  it  was  moreover,  most  curiously 
and  vaguely  worded.  It  ran  as  follows : — 

"  No  words  that  I  can  write  can  tell  you  what  I  owe 
you  for  what  you  did.  You  can  have  no  knowledge  of 
what  you  saved  me  from.  I  shall  treasure  your  name  as 
a  holy  thing,  and  teach  my  child  to  love  it.  But  the  reason 
I  cannot  tell  you.  Save  for  the  accident  of  the  changed 
bags — for  which  I  am  more  thankful  than  I  can  say — I 
should  never  have  known  your  name.  I  send  your  bag 
back  to  you  as  I  found  it.  Destroy  that  which  you  have. 
Of  the  contents,  your  own  instincts  will  tell  you  what  I 
should  like  to  have  again  some  day,  if  ever  I  can  dare  to 
make  myself  known  to  you  and  claim  them.  Till  then 
keep  them,  if  you  can;  if  not,  destroy  them,  or  do  with 
them  as  you  will.  May  God  for  ever  bless  you  and  send 
you  such  a  friend  as  I  would  love  to  be  to  you  if  I  dared. 
One  kindness  do  me — forget  all  you  saw  when  we  met." 

Dessie  read  this  letter  over  and  over  again,  each  time 
with  some  fresh  cause  of  bewilderment  as  to  the  meaning 
which  lay  behind  its  extraordinary  wording,  and  she 
spent  many  hours  in  trying  to  unravel  the  skein  which 
seemed  to  form  so  completely  tangled  a  web. 

Then  on  the  third  day  she  made  her  decision. 


Prologue  1 5 

She  had  left  one  connecting  link  with  the  past.  No 
one  knew  where  she  had  gone  nor  what  name  she  had 
adopted ;  but  there  remained  one  means  by  which  a  letter 
could  reach  her.  In  her  own  name  she  had  taken  a  safe 
at  one  of  the  Safe  Deposit  Companies  in  London,  in  order 
that  she  might  have  a  perfectly  secret  address.  She  had 
had  this  hint  from  what  she  knew  her  father  had  done 
some  years  before. 

Her  resolve  now  was  to  destroy  nothing,  but  to  use  the 
safe  for  the  deposit  of  the  handbag  and  all  its  contents ; 
and  thus  bury  the  secret  where  no  one  would  ever  think 
to  look  for  it,  and  where  both  secret  and  jewels  would  be 
absolutely  safe.  She  did  more  than  this.  Being  a  clever 
practical  girl,  she  wrote  out  at  considerable  length  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  adventure  while  they  were  fresh  in 
her  memory,  and  she  enclosed  the  statement  with  the  bag 
and  its  strangely  assorted  contents. 

While  doing  this  another  idea  occurred  to  her — to  get 
together  the  fullest  possible  reports  of  the  trial  of  the 
man  she  had  seen  arrested,  and  then  judge  whether  in 
what  transpired  she  could  see  a  way  to  rid  herself  of  the 
jewels  without  danger. 

In  this  again  she  acted  with  practical  common-sense. 
She  sent  for  copies  of  the  Birmingham  papers  of  the  days 
following  the  arrest,  and  having  in  that  way  traced  the 
case  from  its  earliest  stage,  she  followed  it  to  the  end. 

It  was  a  much  more  serious  one  than  she  had  antici- 
pated. 

The  man's  crime  was  a  murder  committed  in  France — 
the  murder  of  an  old  relative  named  Duvivier,  under  cir- 
cumstances of  considerable  cowardice  and  great  cunning. 
The  arrest  had  been  made  under  an  extradition  warrant, 
and  it  appeared  to  have  been  the  result  of  a  purely  chance 
meeting.  The  detectives  being  at  Birmingham  on  another 


1 6  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

matter,  had  seen  and  recognised  their  prisoner,  whose 
name  was  Rolande  Lespard,  and  they  had  taken  him  on 
the  spot. 

The  proceedings,  first  in  England  and  then  in  France, 
dragged  on  for  several  months ;  but  the  girl  followed 
them  closely,  and  at  length  read  that  the  man  was  sen- 
tenced, not  to  death,  as  he  deserved,  but  to  a  term  of  four 
years  at  the  galleys — the  jury  finding  in  the  ill  temper  of 
the  murdered  man  those  extenuating  circumstances  which 
only  a  French  jury  know  how  to  discover. 

But  throughout  the  whole  proceedings  from  first  to 
last  not  a  syllable  was  said  by  anyone  which  could  pos- 
sibly refer  to  the  jewels. 

Dessie  Merrion  collected  the  papers,  made  a  careful 
selection  of  the  best  reports,  in  English  and  French,  and 
then  added  them  to  what  she  had  already  deposited  in  the 
safe. 

She  resolved  to  preserve  silence  on  her  side  too,  and 
merely  to  wait,  lest  she  should  ever  be  questioned  about 
her  strange  and  embarrassing  possession. 

For  over  three  years  she  heard  nothing. 

Then  one  day  a  letter  came. 

She  had  left  Mrs.  Barker's  and  was  living  in  rooms 
in  London,  and  the  letter  followed  her. 

Again  there  was  no  date,  nor  address,  nor  signature. 

"  I  want  to  warn  you.  I  cannot  yet  make  myself  known 
to  you,  but  you  are  in  my  thoughts  every  day.  When  I 
last  wrote,  I  did  not  know  what  my  bag  contained,  and 
what  yon  will  have  found.  The  villain  who  put  it  there, 
and  whose  trial  you  have  probably  seen,  is  free,  and  has 
been  to  see  me,  thinking  that  what  it  contained  would 
be  in  my  possession.  I  told  him  how  the  change  of  bags 
had  occurred;  but  he  does  not  remember  your  looks  in 
the  least;  and  your  name  has  never  passed  my  lips,  and 


Prologue  1 7 

never  shall.  Pray  Heaven  you  may  never  meet.  If  you 
do,  shun  him  as  you  would,  and  do,  sin.  He  is  an  utterly 
reckless,  vicious,  desperate,  dangerous  man.  God  help 
the  woman  who  falls  into  his  hands.  If  you  love  your 
life  or  your  honour,  do  not  be  that  woman.  I  and  my 
child  pray  for  you  always ;  I,  as  for  a  dear  sister." 

The  receipt  of  this  letter  gave  Dessie  Merrion  food  for 
much  meditation;  but  it  did  not  disturb  her  as  it  would 
once  have  done.  The  chances  of  her  ever  meeting  Ro- 
lande  Lespard  were  so  remote,  and  the  chance  that  even 
so  he  would  ever  recognise  her  was  so  much  more  remote, 
that  it  seemed  scarcely  worth  while  to  deem  it  a  pos- 
sibility. 

"  We  can  never  meet,"  she  thought.  "  Beside  if  we 
were  to,  I  know  him  and  could  keep  out  of  his  way;  he 
could  not  know  me,  and  could  have  no  motive  in  pursuing 
me.  The  secret  is  fast  locked  in  the  safe;  and  so  far  as 
I  am  concerned,  shall  never  come  out  while  I  live.  I  will 
never  use  the  jewels;  but  I  will  never  give  them  up  while 
there  is  the  remotest  chance  that  in  doing  so  I  shall  bring 
trouble  on  myself.  I  may  be  able  to  give  them  up  safely 
perhaps  if  the  writer  of  the  letter  should  make  herself 
known  to  me — if  ever.  But  I  will  never  tell  the  secret. 
I  shall  never  forget  that  man;  and  I  believe  I  should 
know  him  among  ten  thousand,  however  disguised.  The 
bare  memory  of  his  face  sets  me  shuddering  with  loath- 
ing and  fear.  I  am  with  the  writer — I  would  not  be  in 
his  power  for  all  the  world.  No,  we  shall  never  meet. 
Though  if  we  did,  and  if  he  recognised  me  " — she  paused 
and  shivered — "  those  jewels  would  be  in  all  truth  a  heri- 
tage of  peril.  But  it  is  impossible.  I'll  go  to  the  safe 
to-morrow  and  put  this  letter  with  the  other  papers ;  and 
this  is  probably  the  last  I  shall  ever  hear  of  the  whole 
matter." 


1 8  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

She  carried  out  her  intention,  and  on  the  following  day 
added  the  letter  to  the  papers,  some  of  which  she  took 
out  and  re-read  with  engrossing  interest  and  curiosity. 

Then  they  were  locked  up  again  in  the  safe,  as  she  then 
believed,  not  to  be  disturbed  for  the  rest  of  her  life. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   PROSPECT  OF   PERIL 

"  HERE'S  a  health  to  the  Old  Bailey,  Dessie,  and  long 
life  to  all  the  causes  that  give  one  a  criminal  practice  and 
point  the  road  to  a  marriageable  income ; "  and  the 
speaker,  a  handsome  frank-faced  man  of  about  thirty, 
smiled  to  his  hostess,  lifted  his  small  cup  of  tea,  and 
drained  it  at  a  draught. 

Dessie  Merrion  laughed  in  response,  and  a  happy  light 
shone  in  her  eyes,  and  a  flush  of  colour  tinged  her  rather 
pale  cheeks  at  the  reference  in  his  last  words. 

"  Let's  add,  and  good  luck  to  the  Press,  Tom,  and  to 
all  who  paved  the  way  for  the  woman  journalist." 

"  A  fairly  comprehensive  toast,  taken  altogether ;  but 
if  you  and  I  can't  be  generous  when  briefs  are  coming 
in,  who  can  and  when  ?  I  always  did  like  it,  but  I  shall 
be  glad  to  see  it  changed."  He  spoke  in  a  matter  of  fact 
tone  that  made  the  girl  pucker  her  forehead,  puzzled  as 
to  his  meaning. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  as  a  smile  smoothed  out  the  puckers 
and  spread  over  her  face,  while  she  lifted  her  left  hand 
and  kissed  the  engagement  ring — a  handsome  diamond 
solitaire — that  glistened  on  her  finger  "  I  couldn't  think 
for  the  moment  what  you  meant." 

*  Puzzled  you  to  think  that  I  should  want  you  changed 
in  anything,  eh?  I  don't,  except  in  that.  Heigho,  what 

'9 


20  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

times  we  will  have!  Do  you  know  I  hate  those  beastly 
chambers  of  mine  worse  every  time  I  go  into  them?  If 
my  uncle  hadn't  been  such  a  crotchety  old  idiot — dear  old 
boy  that  he  is — I  shouldn't  have  had  to  go  into  them  half 
so  often ;  and  the  world  would  have  been  spared  an  awful 
lot  of  profanity.  I'm  afraid  it'll  tell  against  the  dear  old 
chap  when  the  reckoning  comes.  He  knows  all  about  it, 
so  he  can't  plead  ignorance.  If  he'd  been  at  the  bar,  he'd 
know  what  a  frightful  lot  of  work  it  takes  to  earn  two 
hundred  pounds  a  year." 

"  But  you're  nearly  doing  it  now  ?  Besides,  I  could 
earn  nearly  that  before  I  was  ill." 

"  Ah,  but  that  doesn't  count.  He  swears  he'd  never 
consent  to  the  marriage  at  all  if  he  thought  you  meant  to 
do  a  single  stroke  of  work  to  take  you  away  from  your 
real  mission  in  life — looking  after  me.  He  knows  my 
worth." 

"  Or  how-  much  you  need  looking  after,"  said  Dessie, 
smiling  again.  "  I  shouldn't  give  up  my  work  without 
regret,  for  I  know  nothing  in  life  so  sweet  as  earning 
one's—" 

r'  Nothing?"  interpolated  Tom  Cheriton,  looking  into 
her  eyes,  and  taking  her  hand  in  his. 

"  I  wouldn't  give  it  up  for  anyone  but  you,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"  The  sooner  it's  over  the  better.  I  wish  it  was  to  be 
to-morrow,  Dessie.  Ever  since  you  took  that  wretched 
fever  in  that  beastly  slumming  expedition  of  yours  after 
'  realistic  copy,'  I've  hated  the  thought  of  newspapers  con- 
nected with  you." 

"  Yet  it  was  the  fever  which  gave  me  one  of  the  two 
real  friends  I  have  in  the  world — Dora." 

"  It  very  nearly  robbed  me  of  you  altogether,  child," 
said  the  man,  tenderly  and  lovingly.  "  And  that  thought 


The  Prospect  of  Peril  21 

undeilies  my  opinion.  Why,  even  now,  you  are  as  pale 
and  weak  as  you  can  be." 

"  I  should  have  been  dead  had  it  not  been  for  Dora's 
nursing.  Dear  little  mass  of  inconsistencies  that  she  is. 
Who  would  have  dreamt  that  under  that  surface  of 
frivolity  and  vanity  and  shallowness  such  a  heart  could 
beat.  I  only  hope  I  may  ever  have  a  chance  of  repaying 
her." 

"  Pretty  young  widows  with  five  or  six  thousand  a 
year  don't  stand  in  need  of  much  help  as  a  rule." 

"  Well,  if  ever  the  need  came,  I  would  venture  my  life 
for  her,  as  she  ventured  hers  for  me." 

"  As  much  of  it  as  I  could  permit  to  be  staked,  I  pre- 
sume you  mean.  But  there  can  scarcely  be  any  need. 
Her  new  husband  will  probably  take  care  of  that.  Con- 
found it,  to  think  that  while  we've  been  engaged  twelve 
months,  and  may  have  another  year  to  wait,  she's  only 
been  engaged  about  a  fortnight,  and  is  already  talking 
about  being  married.  I  believe  they'll  be  married  long 
before  us,  after  all." 

"  She  is  very  much  in  love  with  him,  at  any  rate.  I 
never  read  such  a  letter  as  her  last.  She  has  exhausted  a 
perfect  conscript  army  of  superlatives  to  express  admira- 
tion. I  wonder  what  he's  like.  Have  you  ever  seen  him, 
Tom?" 

"  Seen  him  ?  No,  how  could  I  ?  They  met  somewhere 
on  the  Continent,  and  haven't  been  in  town  since.  I  never 
heard  of  the  man.  But  I've  seen  poor  George  Vezey," 
and  Cheriton  laughed,  good-humoredly. 

"  Poor  Mr.  Vezey !  I  think  he  really  cares  for  her 
much  more  than  any  of  you  will  allow." 

"  How  can  a  Johnnie  like  that  have  feelings  ?  " 

"  He  loves  her,  Tom,  as  surely — as  surely  as  you  love 
me.  And  I  am  sure  this  engagement  will  cut  him  to  the 


22  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

quick.  I  know  when  a  man's  in  earnest,  and  for  all  his 
affectations  and  surface  silliness,  George  Vezey  is  a  man, 
and  would  have  made  Dora  a  good  husband.  I  only  hope 
the  man — what's  his  name? — this  Count  de  Montalt,  will 
make  her  as  good  a  one.  But  what  does  Mr.  Vezey 
say?" 

"  Oh,  you  know  his  way,  Dess ;  well,  if  you  can  ima- 
gine what  the  effect  of  a  spoonful  of  strong  vinegar  would 
be  in  a  tin  of  Devonshire  cream,  you  have  his  state  of 
mind.  He's  as  good-natured  a  fellow  as  ever  stepped, 
but  he  hates  this  chap,de  Montalt ;  and  it  wouldn't  be  fair 
to  take  his  evidence  as  without  bias.  What  makes  him 
more  wild  than  enough,  too,  is  that  he  himself  introduced 
the  Count — you  should  hear  him  say,  the  Count — he's 
like  a  dog  that's  got  hold  of  a  bit  of  peppered  meat ;  it's 
glorious  fun.  Poor  old  George!  He  won't  say  all  he 
thinks ;  but  it's  easy  to  see  what  he  thinks — that  the  man's 
a  bad  egg." 

"  I  hope  for  Dora's  sake  he's  too  jealous  to  be  right. 
She's  just  the  woman  whom  a  bad  man  would  nearly 
kill." 

"  Yes,  she's  a  bit  weak,  isn't  she  ?  Wants  such  a  hus- 
band, for  instance,  as — as — "  he  stopped  and  laughed  very 
brightly,  looking  into  her  face  with  a  challenge. 

"  As  I  can't  spare,  eh?  "  she  replied,  slipping  her  hand 
through  his  arm,  and  turning  up  her  face,  "  Mr.  Vanity." 
Then  in  a  serious  tone  she  added,  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  see 
him  and  judge  for  myself.  We  must  stand  by  Dora  in 
this,  Tom.  I  mean  to ;  and  I'm  bound  to  say  I  don't  like 
the  way  this  thing  has  started.  I  shouldn't  be  a  bit  sur- 
prised if  her  head's  been  turned  by  the  man's  handsome 
face,  probably  helped  by  a  lot  of  the  rubbishy  things  that 
most  of  you  men  think  most  of  us  women  like — and  he's 
snapped  her  up  for  the  sake  of  her  money." 


The  Prospect  of  Peril  23 

"Yes,  I  should  think  that's  about  it,"  he  said  with 
mock  seriousness.  "  Oh,  Dessie,  what  a  detective  you 
would  make!  Here  you  are,  without  a  single  fact  or 
scrap  of  evidence,  and  yet  you've  got  your  theory  of  the 
crime  quite  pat — just  like  most  police  theories."  , 

"  Well,  we  shall  see.  At  least,  I  shall,"  she  answered 
with  a  smile.  "  I  don't  care  a  bit  what  you  say.  I'm  not 
a  scrap  biassed ;  but  you'll  see  I'm  about  right." 

"Possibly;  women  are  born  to  guess.  But  now,  I 
must  be  off.  And  look  here,  a  word  before  I  go.  If  you 
go  dipping  these  little  fingers  " — and  he  held  them  up  and 
kissed  them  as  he  spoke,  slowly  and  with  emphasis — 
"  into  other  people's  hot  pies,  you  mustn't  be  a  bit  sur- 
prised if  you  get  them  burnt,  or  at  least  manage  to  do  no 
more  than  spill  some  of  the  grease  and  stain  on  your  own 
clothes.  Good-bye !  "  He  laughed,  kissed  her  two  or 
three  times  very  lovingly  and  then  went  out. 

Dessie  left  alone,  poured  herself  out  another  cup  of  tea, 
and  then,  a  pleasant  smile  playing  over  her  face  sat  down 
and  picked  up  a  book  that  lay  at  hand.  But  instead  of 
opening  it  to  read  she  let  it  lie  on  her  lap,  and  leant  back 
thinking. 

Life  had  been  going  smoothly  enough  with  her  for 
some  time  past,  and  she  had  gradually  pushed  her  way 
forward  into  a  position  of  independence.  Two  years  at 
Mrs.  Barker's  as  drudge  and  governess  had  been  an  in- 
valuable experience,  drilling  her  into  a  condition  of 
chronic  patience  under  indescribably  galling  stings  and 
provocation.  Then  a  crisis  had  come  through  the  utterly 
base  conduct  of  a  man  who  had  professed  to  love  her,  and 
she  had  left  her  situation. 

But  the  step  had  really  turned  out  for  her  benefit.  She 
had  previously  succeeded  in  getting  some  few  stories  ac- 
cepted for  some  of  the  minor  novelettes  and  periodicals^ 


24  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

and  as  at  the  time  a  longer  tale  had  just  been  taken  by  one 
of  the  big  religious  publishing  houses,  she  .resolved  to 
plunge  boldly  into  the  sea  of  minor  literature  and  news- 
paper work,  and  trust  to  her  own  hands  and  brains  for  a 
living,  without  being  at  the  beck  and  call  of  a  capricious, 
narrow-minded  and  uncertain-tempered  mistress. 

It  had  been  a  hard  fight,  but  she  had  won.  She  had  a 
natural  knack  of  expressing  her  thoughts  clearly,  and  as 
those  thoughts  originated  in  a  heart  the  instincts  and 
promptings  of  which  were  pure,  sincere,  religious,  and 
sanguine,  she  found  people  to  read  what  she  wrote. 

The  struggle  had  not  been  by  any  means  won  when 
Tom  Cheriton  and  she  met,  however.  It  happened 
through  some  of  her  newspaper  work ;  and  the  two  were 
instantly  attracted  to  each  other.  Then  came  the  illness 
to  which  they  had  referred — a  very  ugly  attack  of  typhus, 
in  which  little  Mrs.  Dora  Markham  had  saved  Dessie's 
life,  by  her  own  personal  devoted  nursing  as  well  as 
by  the  means  which  her  wealth  had  enabled  her  to  em- 
ploy. In  that  way  Mrs.  Markham  had  bound  the  girl  to 
her  by  the  bond  of  deep  gratitude ;  and  it  was  this  strong 
affection  which  had  set  her  thinking  so  seriously  about 
her  friend's  sudden  engagement  to  a  man  of  whom  no 
one  had  ever  heard  a  w7ord,  except  that  he  was  a  sort  of 
half-Frenchman,  half-Englishman,  whom  she  had  met 
and  fallen  in  love  with  at  Ostend.  Dessie  was  so  happy  in 
the  love  of  such  a  man  as  Tom  Cheriton  that  she  wished 
Dora  no  better  lot  than  a  second  marriage  with  a  man  as 
worthy.  But  she  was  vaguely  doubtful  of  and  preju- 
diced against  the  Count  de  Montalt. 

After  Cheriton  left  she  sat  thinking  closely  and  ear- 
nestly about  it,  when  a  telegram  came  from  her  friend. 
"  Am  home.  Come  and  see  me  at  once.  Want  to  intro^ 
duce  you  this  evening.  Stay  the  night." 


The  Prospect  of  Peril  25 

Dessie  was  but  a  very  few  minutes  making  the  neces- 
sary preparations;  and  then  she  hurried  away  to  South 
Kensington,  where  the  pretty  young  widow  had  a  large 
house  in  Edgecumbe-square. 

The  meeting  was  as  cordial  as  it  could  be  on  both 
sides,  and  Mrs.  Markham,  who  was  full  to  the  brim  with 
one  subject,  overflowed  instantly  and  poured  out  volumi- 
nous chatter  about  her  lover. 

The  description  alone  was  enough  to  make  Dessie  un- 
comfortable. He  was  said  to  be  a  "  tall,  noble-looking, 
dark,  gloriously  handsome,  and  altogether  splendid  man, 
with  dark  eyes  that  glowed  with  deep  feeling  and  ten- 
derness." Outside  her  own  novelettes,  she  always  asso- 
ciated that  type  with  the  one  man,  Rolande  Lespard, 
whom  she  knew  to  be  so  desperate  a  villain.  That  one 
man's  appearance  had  prejudiced  her  against  dark,  hand- 
some men  as  a  class;  and  the  description  now  strength- 
ened her  prejudice  that  this  particular  man  was  a  fortune- 
hunter. 

She  prepared  herself,  therefore,  to  dislike  and  suspect 
him,  and  when  the  time  came  for  his  arrival  "  to  be  intro- 
duced," she  was  half  inclined  to  smile  at  herself  for  her 
condition  of  somewhat  eager  critical  intolerance  and  dis- 
trust. 

Little  Mrs.  Markham  was  very  serious. 

"  I  do  hope  you'll  like  him,  Dessie.  I  can't  see  how 
you  can  help  it,  but  I  do  hope  you  will."  This  weakness 
was  very  characteristic.  The  girl  made  some  general 
reply,  and  as  she  finished,  the  Count  was  announced. 

Dora  Markham  blushed  crimson,  and  went  hurriedly 
to  him  and  laid  her  hands  in  his.  He  took  them  and 
kissed  them,  as  he  smiled  and  looked  very  ardently  into 
her  face. 

Then  they  turned  together  to  Dessie. 


26  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

She  stood  gripping  the  back  of  a  chair  and  fighting  for 
calmness. 

She  had  recognised  him  the  instant  her  eyes  fell  on 
him;  and  when,  by  a  tremendous  effort,  she  pulled  her- 
self together,  and  he  came  to  her,  smiling  and  self- 
assured,  holding  out  a  hand  to  her,  she  knew  him  for 
none  other  than  the  man  against  whom  she  had  been 
warned  by  her  unknown  friend. 

He  was  Rolande  Lespard. 


She  stood  gripping  the  back  of  a  chair  and  fighting  for  calmness. 

Page  26. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE    COUNT   DE    MONTALT 

THE  dinner  that  followed  Bessie's  introduction  to  the 
Count  de  Montalt  was  not  a  very  pleasant  function.  The 
three  were  alone,  and  not  one  of  them  was  quite  at  ease. 
While  the  servants  remained  in  the  room,  they  chatted 
vapid  commonplaces,  and  watched  each  other  in  the 
pauses.  Dora  was  nervous  lest  Dessie  might  not  like 
the  Count;  the  Count  was  all  curiosity  and  scrutiny  to 
know  what  terms  he  was  to  be  on  with  a  girl  whom  he 
knew  to  have  influence  with  the  woman  he  was  to  marry ; 
while  Dessie  herself  was  so  unsettled  by  the  shock  of  her 
discovery  that  she  could  not  be  other  than  ill  at  ease. 

The  Count  de  Montalt  was  the  least  affected  by  the 
position.  He  was  a  fluent  talker,  and  as  he  had  been  in 
many  parts  of  the  world,  he  had  abundant  material  on 
which  to  draw  for  conversation.  He  also  dwelt  with  a 
good  deal  of  detail  on  the  particulars  of  his  estate  in 
France,  the  difficulty  of  management,  the  bad  times  for 
landowners,  the  evils  of  Republicanism,  and  so  on. 

After  a  little  time,  Dessie  began  to  feel  her  interest  in 
the  man  as  a  human  problem  overcoming  her  shock  and 
first  shuddering  dread;  and  she  scrutinised  him  very 
closely  as  he  sat  and  talked. 

He  was  certainly  a  strikingly  handsome  man.  Tall 
and  broad  and  very  erect,  he  had  a  military  air  in  his  car- 
riage; while  his  regular  and  very  powerful  features  all 
Suggested  great  force  of  character.  A  man  meant  to  bend 

37 


28  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

others  to  his  will,  thought  the  girl.  A  remorseless  and 
untiring  enemy,  was  her  next  conclusion;  and  a  cruel, 
relentless,  and  utterly  unscrupulous  villain,  as  she  knew 
from  his  history. 

"  You  seem  to  know  Europe  pretty  well,"  said  Dessie, 
when  he  had  been  speaking  of  some  personal  experiences 
in  Hungary  and  afterwards  in  Russia.  "  Are  many  lan- 
guages as  familiar  to  you  as  English  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed  I  have  only  a  sort  of  conversational  smat- 
tering of  others — German,  Italian,  Russ,  and  so  on.  But 
I  am  half  English;  my  mother  was  English,  you  know. 
I  know  Europe  because  for  years  I  have  been  a  great 
traveller  in  a  small  European  sense.  I  am  alone  in  the 
world  now — at  present,  that  is,"  and  he  raised  his  eyes 
and  smiled  at  Dora,  who  blushed.  "  I  take  my  name 
and  title  through  my  first  wife,  whom  I  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  lose  within  six  months  of  my  marrying  her. 
Not  by  death,  but  unfortunately  by  the  failure  of  her  men- 
tal powers ;  and  till  her  death — a  happy  release,  of  course, 
for  her — I  was  more  or  less  a  wanderer  on  the  face  of 
the  earth."  He  managed  to  put  into  his  voice  and  man- 
ner an  indescribable  suggestion  that  though  he  had  been 
married,  and  his  marriage  had  been  a  trouble  at  the  time, 
his  heart  had  never  been  touched,  but  had  remained  virgin 
for  Dora  to  capture. 

"  And  do  you  remain  constant  in  your  admiration  of 
our  country's  scenery?  I  am  told  that  all  Frenchmen 
swear  there  is  no  scenery  in  the  world  like  that  of  the 
Lower  Pyrenees,  no  land  to  be  loved  like  that,  no  people 
so  picturesque  as  in  the  Pyrenees,  and  no  quainter  picture 
on  earth  than  one  of  the  homesteads  there.  Do  you 
think  so?" 

A  shade  crossed  his  face  at  this  question,  and  a  glance 
of  passing  anger  lighted  his  eyes.  It  was  in  a  Pyrenean 


The  Count  de  Montalt  29 

homestead  that  he  had  committed  the  murder  of  his  old 
relative,  Duvivier. 

"  I  have  not  been  in  the  province  of  the  Basses  Pyrenees 
since  I  was  a  child,"  he  said.  There  was  a  tone  in  his 
voice  which  seemed  to  warn  his  hearer  away  from  the 
subject;  and  Dessie  noted  the  incident  as  a  confirmation 
of  her  belief  in  his  identity,  and  as  something  to  be  re- 
membered for  future  use. 

"  Ah,  you  have  perhaps  some  associations  in  connection 
with  the  district  that  are  painful.  That  is  so  with  child- 
hood sometimes,  and  is  often  found,  I  know,  in  old  fami- 
lies." He  bit  his  lip  at  this,  but  smiled  to  hide  it,  as  the 
girl  continued.  "  Dora  has  told  you,  of  course,  that  I  am 
a  writer,  a  journalist,  a  newspaper  woman — or  whatever 
people  like  to  call  us — and  that  makes  one  always  curious 
for  odd  bits  of  human  nature,  you  know,  like  prejudices 
and  fancies,  likes  and  dislikes.  I  have  never  met  before 
with  a  prejudice  against  a  whole  province  I  must  con- 
fess. I've  known  people  dislike  towns,  particular  houses, 
and  sometimes  a  whole  county  or  the  people  in  it.  But 
that  is  generally  personal.  Either  they  have  done  some- 
thing in  the  place  or  had  something  done  to  them  by  the 
people — a  prejudice  with  a  personal  foundation."  She 
smiled  as  she  made  this  thrust,  and  seeing  his  discom- 
fiture, she  harped  on  the  subject  of  the  country  of  the 
Pyrenees  and  his  prejudice  against  it  until  the  man's  an- 
ger showed  so  plainly  in  his  face  that  Dessie  feared  her 
friend  would  see  it  and  be  either  annoyed  or  grieved ;  and 
then  she  turned  the  conversation.  But  she  had  learnt 
something  from  it. 

In  this  way  the  dinner  passed,  and  as  the  Count  did 
not  wish  to  stay  and  smoke  by  himself,  the  three  went  to 
the  drawing-room  together. 

There  Mrs.  Markham  played  and  sang.     She  had  a 


go  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

weak  sweet  soprano  of  limited  range,  and  warbled  little 
songs  with  a  lot  of  love  in  them ;  and  to-night  being  very 
sentimental,  she  put  unusual  feeling  into  the  singing  and 
made  the  Count  sit  close  by  her  side. 

Dessie  sat  back  and  watched ;  and  more  than  once  she 
saw  expressions  cross  the  dark,  handsome,  strong  face  of 
the  man,  seeming  to  reflect  brooding  thoughts,  which 
might  have  been  raised  by  her  thrusts  at  the  dinner  table. 

Her  imagination  was  morbidly  busy  as  she  sat  and 
watched  him,  sitting  close  to  the  woman  he  was  deliber- 
ately deceiving ;  and  on  his  face,  held  as  it  was  a  little  in 
the  shadow  of  the  soft  lamplight,  Dessie  pictured  a  smile 
of  cynical  triumph,  at  the  ease  with  which  he  had  found 
and  won  this  last  victim,  and  of  contempt  for  that  side  of 
Dora's  character  which  alone  he  could  have  seen. 

The  qualities  which  counterbalanced  the  little  surface 
vanities  of  the  widow  would  be  sealed  fountains  to  him. 
He  could  not  appreciate  her  real  love  of  truth  for  truth's 
sake;  her  ready  devotion  in  nursing  Dessie  through  her 
illness ;  her  instinctive  impulses  to  use  her  money  to  stay 
any  plea  of  want  and  misery.  These  things  to  such  a 
man  would  be  but  so  many  proofs  that  a  woman  was  weak 
and  a  fool.  They  might  almost  give  him  cause  for  a 
chuckle  that  they  made  her  the  readier  dupe  for  him,  and 
promised  him  an  easier  life  with  her  in  the  future.  And 
as  the  girl  thought  this  her  cheek  flushed  with  anger  and 
indignation. 

Then  another  fancy  took  possession  of  her.  As  she 
gazed  intently  at  the  man's  hard,  clear  profile,  and 
thought  of  his  past  as  it  was  known  to  her,  the  room 
seemed  to  fade,  the  jingle  of  the  piano  died  away,  and  the 
scene  changed  to  the  low-roofed  kitchen-parlour  of  a 
Pyrenean  homestead.  The  hard,  grim  face  was  still  the 
central  figure,  a  look  of  keen  murderous  determination 


The  Count  de  Montalt  31 

lighting  the  eyes,  which  were  fixed  on  the  face  of  a 
second  figure  in  the  square  room — that  of  an  old  and 
feeble  man  asleep  on  a  high-backed  wooden  settle,  by  the 
side  of  the  broad  hearth,  where  a  log  was  alternately 
smouldering  and  bursting  into  thin,  licking  tongues  of 
flame. 

The  old  man's  slumber  was  accompanied  by  heavy 
guttural  breathing  and  wheezing  gasps,  with  an  occa- 
sional snore,  as  the  head  got  into  an  uncomfortable  posi- 
tion. And  at  every  sound,  denoting  that  the  man's  sleep 
was  getting  deeper,  the  dark,  heavy  face  of  the  watcher 
across  the  hearth  seemed  to  grow  more  set  and  pitiless, 
as  though  some  half-formed  but  wholly  deadly  purpose 
was  ripening  into  instant  resolve. 

Presently  the  watcher  rose  stealthily  from  his  chair, 
and  moving  slowly  and  silently  across  the  floor,  stood 
by  the  sleeper,  and  bending  down,  looked  intently  into  the 
white,  rugged,  deeply-lined,  old  face.  Then  he  touched 
a  hand,  lifted  it,  and  let  it  fall.  It  was  nerveless  and 
limp;  but  the  jerk  made  the  sleeper  stir  uneasily,  and 
draw  a  breath  deeper  and  longer  than  usual. 

The  man  by  his  side  stood  as  still  as  death  itself. 

Then,  after  a  pause,  he  put  his  own  hand,  with  infinite 
care  and  deftness  of  touch,  into  the  other's  pocket,  and 
took  out  a  key.  He  looked  at  it  in  the  leap  of  a  fire 
flame,  and  turned  and  stole  with  silent  steps  from  the 
room. 

Soon  he  was  back  again,  holding  a  paper  which  he  had 
evidently  fetched  from  some  locked  place  of  which  he  had 
taken  the  key. 

It  was  a  will,  and  holding  it  near  the  fire  he  read  it  by 
the  light  of  the  leaping  tongues  of  uncertain  flame.  What 
he  read  angered  him,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  grow  red  and 
bloodshot  with  passion,  while  the  even,  regular,  comely 


32  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

features  looked  evil  and  venomous  as  he  glanced  from  the 
paper  to  the  sleeper. 

Then  he  went  again  from  the  room  and  after  a  time 
returned,  this  time  carrying  a  bundle  of  small  papers  and 
a  bag.  The  bag  he  unfastened.  It  contained  gold  coins. 
Among  the  papers  was  a  large  bundle  of  soiled  bank 
notes.  These  and  the  bag  he  put  on  the  table,  and  then 
after  a  hurried  search  among  the  other  papers  he  went 
away,  for  the  third  time,  and  returned  with  the  key  in  his 
hand.  His  face  now  wore  a  devil's  smile. 

He  made  no  attempt  to  put  the  key  back,  but  crept 
with  quite  silent  tread  to  the  settle.  Next  he  poured  the 
contents  of  a  small  bottle  into  a  teacup,  putting  the  bottle 
back  in  his  pocket.  From  a  shelf  by  the  side  of  the  hearth 
he  took  a  large  medicine  bottle,  from  which  he  poured 
some  of  the  dark  contents  into  the  cup,  and  clinking 
the  bottle  and  cup  together,  as  if  clumsily,  he  put  his 
hand  on  the  old  man's  shoulder  and  shook  him. 

"  Uncle,  uncle,  here's  your  medicine,"  he  cried,  holding 
the  big  bottle  so  that  the  flickering  flame  fell  on  it. 

The  old  man  moved  sleepily,  mumbled  some  incoherent 
words,  stretched  out  his  arms  stiffly,  and  opening  his  eyes 
lazily  swore  at  the  other  for  having  woke  him.  He  was 
as  evil-looking  as  his  companion — a  wizened,  cunning, 
animal  face,  all  cruelty,  greed  and  hardness.  He  looked 
hideous  as,  half  asleep,  he  held  out  his  hand  for  the  medi- 
cine. He  took  it,  drank  it  off  at  a  gulp,  started,  made  a 
wry  face,  oathed  again,  swore  that  it  was  nastier  than 
ever,  and  settled  himself  down  to  renew  his  broken 
nap. 

In  another  minute  he  was  asleep  again. 

The  dark,  glittering  eyes  had  never  left  his  face  for  a 
moment,  and  the  younger  man,  seemingly  so  passive,  had 
been  all  vigilance,  ready  to  pounce  on  his  victim  and 


"  He'll  be  dead  in  an  hour — by  nine,  say." 


Page  33. 


The  Count  de  Montalt 


33 


finish  the  work  by  violence  if  he  showed  the  least  sign  of 
resistance. 

As  the  old  man  let  his  head  fall  again  in  sleep  his 
companion  smiled  and  heaved  a  heavy  sigh  of  relief. 
He  first  examined  the  cup  to  see  that  it  was  empty,  smelt 
it,  smiling  more  broadly  than  ever  as  he  did  so,  and  then, 
having  washed  it  out  with  water,  smashed  it  and  put  the 
pieces  into  his  pocket.  He  next  took  another  cup  of  just 
the  same  pattern,  poured  into  it  a  dose  of  the  medicine, 
threw  half  of  it  into  the  fire,  and  drank  the  remainder, 
putting  down  the  empty  cup  close  by  the  old  man's  hand. 
Then  he  put  the  key  back  in  the  sleeper's  pocket,  but 
without  care,  knowing  there  was  no  fear  of  any  awaken- 
ing. That  done,  he  bent  over  the  old  man,  listened  to  his 
breathing,  which  was  now  much  more  stertorous  than 
before,  and  then  he  craned  up  his  head  to  see  the  time 
by  the  little  clock  that  stood  on  the  mantelshelf,  shaded 
from  the  firelight. 

"  He'll  be  dead  in  an  hour — by  nine,  say.  I  must  get 
back  about  then."  And  with  that  he  swept  the  money 
into  his  pocket,  and  went  away,  leaving  the  sleeper  alone 
to  breathe  out  his  remaining  life  in  the  stertorous  gasps 
which  were  growing  more  and  more  irregular  every 
moment,  while  the  leaping  shadows  that  danced  on  wall 
and  ceiling  were  shooting  up  in  long,  grotesque,  fantastic, 
ghoulish  shapes,  and  stretching  out  their  hands,  as  if  al- 
ready claiming  the  doomed  man  for  shadowland. 

Stillness  brooded  in  the  room,  broken  only  by  the 
choking,  heavy  breathing  of  the  fast  dying  man. 

About  an  hour  later,  the  sounds  of  footsteps  and  voices 
and  laughter  were  heard  outside  the  homestead. 
Amongst  them  were  the  deep  tones  of  the  man  who  had 
left  the  place  recently.  He  was  laughing  and  joking  and 
rallying  his  two  companions.  The  three  entered  with 


34  The  Heritage  of  Peril 


the  laughter  on  their  lips  evoked  by  the  jest  of  the  dark 
man. 

He  came  into  the  chamber  of  death  with  a  swagger  and 
an  oath. 

Then,  as  if  catching  sight  of  the  figure  on  the  settle, 
he  stopped  his  laughter  and  cried, 

"  Hullo,  here's  my  uncle  asleep.  I  couldn't  think  where 
the  deuce  he'd  got  to.  Uncle,  here  are  Ambroise  and 
Giraud.  I've  walked  from  Asson,  and  am  about  as  hun- 
gry as  the Why,"  he  stopped  and  made  a  big  demon- 
stration of  excitement,  "  what's  the  matter  ?  Here,  Am- 
broise, Giraud,  my  dear  old  uncle's  ill.  Look,  look.  My 
God  he's  dead.  Died  in  his  sleep.  That's  what  the  doctor 
always  said  would  happen.  Oh,  my  uncle,  my  uncle," 
and,  with  a  burst  of  emotion,  he  threw  himself  on  his 
knees. 

At  that  instant  a  loud  crash  of  music  chords  startled 
the  girl,  and  brought  her  back  from  her  picture  dream 
of  the  cowardly  crime  which  she  knew  had  been  com- 
mitted by  the  man  who  had  now  risen,  and  was  coming 
to  her  to  shake  hands,  and  bid  her  good  night. 

The  touch  of  his  flesh  made  her  cringe  and  shudder, 
and  the  room  seemed  lighter  and  purer  the  instant  he  had 
passed  out  of  it. 

Then,  moved  by  an  impulse,  Dessie  put  her  arms  round 
her  friend's  waist,  and  holding  her  as  though  shielding 
her  from  the  attack  which  she  knew  this  villain  was  plan- 
ning against  her  happiness,  and  perhaps  against  her  life, 
she  kissed  her  passionately  and  almost  fiercely,  over  and 
over  again. 

And  as  she  did  it  she  vowed  to  herself  that  she  would 
indeed  step  in  between  the  man  and  his  intended  victim, 
let  the  cost  to  herself  be  what  it  might. 

The  next  instant  she  was  listening  to   Mrs.    Mark- 


The  Count  de  Montalt  35 

ham's  protest  against  her  strange  action,  and  then  to  the 
pleased,  proud  and  eager  questions  whether  she  did  not 
think  the  Count  was  all  that  a  gallant,  noble,  handsome 
man  should  be. 


CHAPTER  III 

"YOU  ARE  ROLANDE  LESPARD  " 

THE  two  friends  sat  talking  together  for  a  long  time 
after  the  Count  had  left,  and  Dessie  found  it  difficult  to 
evade  the  questions  which  the  infatuated  little  widow 
poured  upon  her. 

"  I  want  to  know  more  about  him,  Dora,"  said  the 
girl  more  than  once.  "  Who  he  is,  what  he  is,  what  he  has 
done,  what  sort  of  a  life  he  has  lived." 

Mrs.  Markham  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  tossed  her 
head  with  a  gesture  of  impatience.  She  was  of  a  fair 
haired,  small  featured,  large  eyed,  doll-like  type  of 
woman ;  small  and  pretty,  but  too  conscious  of  her  good 
looks,  and  very  disposed  to  be  playful  and  kittenish. 
Altogether  impatient  of  contradiction  and  control,  she 
was  apt  to  do  any  mad  thing  in  a  moment  of  impulse. 
She  was  a  little  afraid  of  Bessie's  quiet,  penetrating,  self- 
strong  manner;  and  while  most  anxious  to  have  her 
genuine  opinion  of  the  Count,  inclined  to  be  irritable  and 
peevish  because  that  opinion  was  not  as  enthusiastic  as 
her  own. 

"  I  thought  you  could  read  people  so  quickly,"  she  an- 
swered, rather  testily.  "  What  more  can  you  want  to 
know  ?  Do  you  suppose  I  can't  trust  my  own  instincts  ?  " 

"  If  it  was  a  matter  of  giving  a  five  or  a  ten  pound  note 
to  some  charity  on  the  strength  of  his  recommendation, 
I  should  say  by  all  means  follow  your  impulse.  But  when 
it  comes  to  giving  this  " — she  took  her  friend's  hand  and 

36 


"You  are  Rolande  Lespard"  37 

pressed  it  and  smiled — "  I  won't  trust  anyone's  instincts. 
I'm  like  my  Tom ;  I  want  facts." 

Mrs.  Markham  withdrew  her  hand  and  frowned. 

"  If  I  can't  trust  my  own  heart  I  can  trust  nothing," 
she  said.  "  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  understand  how 
you  can  have  a  lingering  shade  of  doubt,  when  once  you've 
looked  into  Godefroi's  eyes.  Did  you  look  searchingly 
into  them  ?  " 

"  Men  don't  carry  their  characters  written  on  their 
faces,  dear." 

"  If  you  can't  go  by  a  man's  eyes,  what  can  you  go  by  ? 
Do  you  want  to  know  his  acts  ?  Well,  don't  I  know  them  ? 
Hasn't  he  shown  himself  the  kindest,  dearest,  gentlest, 
and  most  thoughtful  being  in  the  world?  Why  on  earth 
do  you — you  of  all  others  in  the  world — want  to  set  me 
against  him?  " 

"  My  dear  Dora,  I  haven't  tried  to  set  you  against 
him,"  cried  Dessie.  "  If  he  is  the  man  you  believe  him, 
then  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  would  please  me  more 
than  that  you  should  be  his  wife." 

Mrs.  Markham  was  silenced  for  a  moment,  but  a  move- 
ment of  her  shoulders  showed  her  vexation. 

" '  If  he's  the  man  I  believe  him,' "  she  repeated. 
"  What  does  that  mean  ?  Oh,  I  suppose  you  think  it's 
the  money  that  attracts  him.  I  hate  the  money.  I  wish 
I  hadn't  any.  It  only  makes  one  suspect  everybody  about 
one.  Either  they  are  rushing  after  it  for  themselves  or 
they  want  to  keep  others  from  sharing  it.  I  wish  I  was 
poor,"  and  a  tear  of  anger  glistened  for  a  moment  in  her 
light  blue  eyes. 

"  You  are  very  ridiculous,  Dora,"  said  Dessie  quietly, 
"  and  if  I  didn't  know  that  in  your  heart  you  do  not  for 
a  moment  believe  me  capable  of  being  in  your  second 
category,  I'd  walk  out  of  your  house  and  never  enter  it 


38  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

again.  In  word,  you  have  just  accused  me  impliedly  of 
trying  to  set  you  against  the  Count  in  order  to  keep  him 
from  sharing  your  money.  If  I  could  do  that,  I  should  be 
just  the  meanest  thing  on  earth." 

"  I  didn't  mean  that  at  all,"  said  the  widow,  weakly 
and  half-tearfully ;  the  girl's  quiet  resolution  and  plain 
speech  rather  frightened  her.  "  I  know  you're  as  true  a 
friend  as  anyone  can  be.  But — but  it's  so  disappointing 
when  you  go  and  make  up  your  mind  not  to  like  someone 
I  like  and  want  you  to  like." 

"  I  haven't  even  told  you  I  don't  like  him,  dear." 

"  No,  but  I  can  see  it  easily  enough,  although  you  do 
think  my  instincts  are  not  quick  and  true,  and  that  I'm 
blind  and  silly  and — and  everything.  I  declare  it  makes 
me  wish  I  hadn't  come  home.  And  I  thought  you'd  be 
so  pleased."  The  tone  of  her  voice  was  beginning  to  sug- 
gest tears;  and  Dessie  noticing  it,  said  with  real  feel- 
ing: 

"  Nothing  will  please  me  more  than  your  real  happi- 
ness, Dora.  I'll  do  anything  I  can  to  secure  it  for  you. 
But  do  just  think  what  you're  asking  me.  You  want  me 
in  cold  blood  to  take  the  same  view  as  you  do  of  the  man 
you  love  passionately.  Do  you  think  as  I  do  about  my 
Tom?" 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Cheriton's  different,"  said  the  widow,  as  if 
repudiating  the  idea  of  a  comparison  between  the  two 
men. 

"  Ought  not  to  be  mentioned  in  the  same  breath,  eh  ?  " 
asked  Dessie,  laughing.  "  Well,  how  can  I  be  more  en- 
thusiastic and  less  critical  of  your  lover  than  you  are  of 
mine?" 

Mrs.  Markham  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said,  a  lit- 
tle triumphantly. 

"  But  I've  never  said  a  word  against  Mr.  Cheriton, 


"You  are  Rolande  Lespard"  39 

and  I  like  him  immensely.  Why  then  do  you  do  so 
against  the  Count  ?  " 

"  There  has  never  been  any  question  who  and  what 
Tom  is.  I  don't  know  a  word  about  the  Count." 

"  But  one  doesn't  always  wait  to  know  all  the  ins  and 
outs  of  a  person's  life  in  order  to  like  them.  Why,  if  it 
comes  to  that,  I  know  nothing  about  you — and  there's  no 
doubt  about  my  loving  you,  is  there  ?  " 

"  You  and  I  are  not  going  to  be  man  and  wife ;  and  if 
we  disagreed  we  could  part ;  but  if  you  were  going  to  put 
yourself  and  your  happiness,  everything,  into  my  charge, 
you'd  want  to  know  everything." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  Dessie.  I'd  trust  you  to-morrow  with 
every  penny  piece  I  have  in  the  world,  and  give  you  un- 
limited power  to  do  with  me  just  what  you  please.  When 
I  trust,  I  trust  wholly." 

Dessie  wras  silenced  at  this.  She  kissed  her  companion 
without  adding  a  word;  and  for  the  moment  the  subject 
was  dropped.  But  after  they  had  gone  upstairs  to  bed, 
Dessie  went  into  her  companion's  room  for  a  last  few 
words. 

"  Dora,  if  I  seem  in  any  way  unbendable  in  this  thing, 
remember  it  is  only  my  love  for  you  that  makes  me  urge 
you  to  open  your  eyes  to  other  things  beside  mere  looks 
and  love.  Sit  here  a  bit;  I'll  tell  you  a  passage  of  my 
own  life,  to  show  you  why  I  don't  trust  every  man  as  I 
do  my  Tom." 

Mrs.  Markham  pushed  a  low  stool  to  her  companion's 
side,  and  sat  with  her  head  resting  on  Dessie's  lap,  the 
girl's  fingers  playing  with  her  hair  as  she  spoke. 

"  Three  or  four  years  ago,  I  was  governess  in  a  very 
disagreeable  family,  and  the  conditions  of  life  were  such 
that  the  place  was  almost  unendurable.  Then  I  met  a 
man — we'll  call  him  L — ,  who  made  much  of  me,  and  in 


40  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

his  way,  fell  headlong  in  love.  I  did  not  love  him:  I 
didn't  think  then  I  should  ever  love  anyone:  And  when 
he  asked  me  to  marry  him,  I  refused.  He  asked  me 
again,  and  I  refused:  And  then,  when  he  pressed  me  a 
third  time,  I  told  him  the  truth — that  I  didn't  love  him, 
but,  if  he  would  be  contented  with  that,  I  would  marry 
him.  He  vowed  he  was  more  than  delighted,  and  we 
were  engaged.  I  am  bound  to  say  he  did  everything  in 
his  power  to  prove  how  great  his  love  was." 

"  Was  he  young  or  old  ?  " 

"  Young,  dear ;  and  good-looking,  and  as  looks  go,  such 
a  man  as  a  girl  might  be  proud  to  be  engaged  to.  He 
was  pretty  well  off,  too,  and  gave  me  rich  presents.  Well, 
there  are  certain  things  in  my  past  life — nothing  that  is 
any  disgrace  to  me,  thank  God — but  still  things  which  the 
man  I  was  to  marry  ought  to  know.  I  told  him,  therefore, 
and  while  he  thanked  me  for  telling  him,  he  said  they 
made  no  difference  to  him." 

"  He  was  a  good  man,  Dessie." 

"  Yes,  so  I  thought,  and  I  was  more  nearly  in  love  with 
him  then  than  at  any  other  time.  I  could  have  loved  him, 
but  just  at  that  time  a  most  unexpected  thing  happened. 
In  two  months  no  less  than  four  people  who  stood  be- 
tween him  and  a  baronetcy  died ;  and  from  being  a  man 
with  a  fairly  good  income,  looked  up  to  in  his  little  chapel 
set,  he  became  a  baronet  with  a  big  income.  The  change 
was  more  than  his  moderate  brain  could  endure  without 
reeling.  His  engagement  to  me  galled  and  fretted  him  ; 
and  I  saw  him  tugging  at  the  chain.  I  offered  to  release 
him;  and  then  he  showed  how  really  weak  he  was.  He 
was  still  in  love  with  me — more  in  love  than  ever,  I  think, 
because  he  had  brought  himself  to  believe  there  was  a 
barrier  of  caste  between  us,  but  he  fell  away  so  fast  mor- 
ally that  I  began  to  despise  him.  I  wrote  and  told  him 


"  You  are  Rolande  Lespard  "  41 

that  I  would  not  marry  him,  and  it  was  when  lie  answered 
the  letter  in  person — I  shall  never  forget  the  interview — 
that  I  learnt  at  first  hand  how  utterly  base  and  con- 
temptible a  thing  a  man  may  be." 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  Dora  murmured  a  word  of 
sympathy. 

"  I  want  no  sympathy,  Dora,"  she  said,  quickly.  "  It 
was  a  lucky  escape.  This  mean  hound  threw  in  my  face 
what  I  had  told  him;  and  declared  that,  as  he  was  now  a 
public  man,  it  must  separate  us.  But  he  still  loved  me, 
he  said,  and  declared  that  his  fortune  was  at  my  disposal 
if — you  can  guess  what  he  said.  My  blood  is  hot  now  as 
I  think  of  it.  You  can  guess,  too,  the  answer  I  made. 
But  that  is  not  the  worst,  nor  anything  like  the  worst. 
The  coward  went  to  the  woman  in  whose  house  I  was 
governess,  and  telling  her  what  I  had  told  him  in  all 
honourable  confidence  got  me  dismissed  at  a  moment's 
notice,  thrown  on  to  the  streets  to  shift  for  myself,  in 
order  that,  as  he  thought,  I  might  be  compelled  through 
want  to  submit  to  his  vile  proposals." 

Her  companion  drew  in  a  quick  breath  of  pain. 

"  That  is  man,  dear !  "  said  Dessie,  bitterly.  "  And  that 
is  why  I  urge  you  to  trust  no  man  till  you  have  tested 
him." 

Mrs.  Markham  got  up  from  her  stool,  and  put  her  arms 
round  the  girl.  She  was  full  of  pity  for  her  friend,  but 
she  saw  no  connection  between  that  man's  scoundrelism 
and  her  own  lover.  The  thought  was  absurd. 

"  Poor  Dessie !  What  an  experience  and  what  an  es- 
cape," she  said.  "  But  my  Godefroi  would  never  act  like 
that." 

Dessie  smiled  in  disappointment,  and  the  smile  had  not 
died  out  of  her  face  and  eyes  when  her  companion  kissed 
her  again,  and  they  bade  each  other  good  night. 


42  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

Bessie  went  to  her  room  filled  with  fear  lest  her  friend's 
infatuation  and  impulsiveness  should  end  in  trouble ;  and 
before  she  fell  asleep  she  resolved  on  one  step — to  speak 
openly  to  the  man  who  called  himself  the  Count  de 
Montalt,  and  let  him  see  that  she  knew  his  true  char- 
acter. 

The  opportunity  came  a  little  sooner  than  she  had  in- 
tended. Her  plan,  as  she  thought  it  out  during  the  night, 
was  to  tell  Tom  something  of  what  she  knew,  and  then 
with  him  to  face  the  Count  together.  But  events  hurried 
her  forward. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Markham  was  not  very  well,  and 
did  not  get  up  to  breakfast.  The  Count  called  early  and 
Dessie  went  down  to  see  him.  As  she  left  the  room  Mrs. 
Markham  said  with  a  smile  that  it  "  would  lead  the  two 
to  a  better  understanding  if  they  saw  something  of  each 
other  alone."  There  was  much  more  truth  in  this  than 
she  anticipated. 

Dessie  had  been  willing,  for  her  friend's  sake,  to  play 
a  part  the  night  before  and  meet  the  Count  on  terms  of 
apparent  friendship ;  but  it  was  a  different  thing  when  the 
two  were  alone,  and  after  she  herself  had  determined  on 
a  course  of  complete  frankness. 

She  had  thought  out  carefully  the  line  that  should  be 
taken.  She  wished  to  spare  her  friend  in  every  possible 
way :  The  blow  to  her  heart  would  not  be  less  than  that 
to  her  self-respect  in  the  knowledge  that  she  had  been 
duped  by  such  a  man.  But  it  was  essential  that  the  reve- 
lation of  the  scoundrel's  true  character  should  be  com- 
plete, or  the  little  widow's  weakness  and  infatuation 
might  allow  of  his  continuing  to  exercise  great  influence 
upon  her. 

Bessie's  heart  beat  a  little  faster  than  usual,  as  she 
went  down  the  broad  staircase  to  the  morning  room,  into 


"You  are  Rolande  Lespard"  43 

which  the  visitor  had  been  shown ;  but  outwardly  she  was 
calm  enough  and  apparently  self-possessed.  To  test  her 
steadiness  she  paused  outside  the  room,  and  held  up  her 
hand  to  see  if  it  trembled  at  all.  It  did  a  little. 

"  I  might  be  a  child  going  to  be  slapped,"  she  thought. 

The  Count  was  standing  in  the  deep  bay  window,  look- 
ing out  on  the  square  garden,  congratulating  himself  upon 
the  size  and  magnificence  of  the  house  and  the  wealth  of 
the  owner  which  it  evidenced;  but  he  turned  quickly 
when  he  heard  the  door  open,  and  Dessie  saw  the  look  of 
pleasure,  which  he  had  put  on  to  greet  Dora,  change  to 
one  of  surprise  and  inquiry. 

He  came  hurrying  towards  her  with  the  same  over- 
acted politeness  which  had  impressed  her  so  unfavourably 
on  the  previous  evening. 

She  had  to  deal  the  first  blow.  Now  that  they  were 
alone,  no  consideration  on  earth  could  make  her  touch 
his  hand. 

He  came  toward  her  with  it  extended,  his  face  express- 
ing a  sort  of  smiling  anxiety  as  to  the  cause  of  Mrs. 
Markham's  absence. 

"  I  trust  dear  Mrs.  Markham  is  well — as  well  as  I  hope 
you  are,  Miss  Merrion.  Pray  tell  me."  Then  with  a 
quiet  change  of  voice  and  manner,  he  added,  "  You  did 
not  see  my  hand,  I  think,  Miss  Merrion, — excuse  me," 
and  he  held  it  out  in  front  of  her,  and  looked  straight 
into  her  face. 

She  returned  his  look  quite  resolutely,  and  with  a  mo- 
tion of  the  hand  toward  a  chair,  she  replied — 

"  Mrs.  Markham  has  nothing  more  serious  the  matter 
with  her  than  a  slight  headache.  You  need  have  no 
anxiety  on  her  account  whatever.  She  rather  wished  me, 
indeed,  to  come  and  see  you  alone,  thinking  that  perhaps 
we  should  get  to  understand  one  another  better  if  we  were 


44  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

alone.  I  think  so  too,"  she  added,  after  a  pause  for  em- 
phasis, eyeing  him  steadily. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Merrion,  I  am  more  than  charmed," 
he  answered,  effusively.  "  My  dear  Dora's  friends  must 
be  my  friends — or  they  could  not  be  hers,  of  course."  He 
made  his  meaning  clear  with  a  glance. 

"  Naturally,"  assented  the  girl.  "  I  quite  understand 
that." 

"  But  I  do  not  think  I  quite  understand  the  position," 
he  answered.  "  Pardon  me  if  I  ask  you  to  explain  it  to 
me  a  little  more  clearly.  I  have  heard  so  much  of  you — 
and  all  in  your  praise.  I  came  to  London  expecting  and 
hoping  to  find  you,  if  only  half  as  good  as  you  had  been 
described,  yet  still  the  best  possible  of  friends  for  my 
Dora,  and,  if  I  may  say  so,  for  myself.  I  came  here  last 
night;  I  had  the  infinite  honour  of  an  introduction  to 
you.  We  had  a  pleasant  dinner,  a  quiet  evening,  an  hour 
of  friendly  companionship.  We  parted  in  the  best  vein 
of  friendship,  apparently.  I  arranged  to  call  early  this 
morning.  I  call.  I  do  not  see  my  Dora,  my  future  wife ; 
but  instead,  you  receive  me;  and  when  I  offer  you  my 
hand,  hoping  the  relations  of  last  evening  are  to  continue, 
you  will  not  take  it ;  and  instead,  you  say  you  have  come 
down  to  have  an  understanding.  Is  it  a  surprise  that  I 
ask  myself  what  does  this  mean?  What  is  it?  Who  is 
this  charming  young  lady  that  meets  me  ?  What  is  it  she 
wishes  ?  " 

He  paused,  threw  his  hands  and  shoulders  up,  and  as- 
sumed a  look  of  greatly  injured  innocence. 

Dessie  had  been  thinking  quickly  while  he  spoke,  and 
now  paused  a  moment  before  replying.  When  she  an- 
swered it  was  with  a  clear,  crisp  emphasis  that  made 
every  word  tell. 

"  The  meaning  is  this.    I  want  to  know  why  you  have 


"You  are  Rolande  Lespard"  45 

imposed  on  my  friend  as  the  Count  de  Montalt,  when  in 
fact  you  are  Rolande  Lespard,  the  murderer  of  your 
uncle,  old  Paul  Duvivier  ?  " 

The  man  sprang  to  his  feet  in  astonishment  and  ob- 
vious terror.  His  face  went  white,  and  for  a  full  minute 
he  was  speechless,  staring  at  the  girl  like  a  man  out  of 
his  senses.  Then  he  sat  down  again,  and  strove  to  regain 
his  self-possession.  It  was  a  long  fight,  and  when  at 
length  he  managed  to  gasp  out — 

"  It  is  a  lie,  Mon  Dieu !  a  tremendous,  villainous,  awful 
lie !  "  his  voice  had  lost  all  the  ring  of  strength  and  depth 
that  had  seemed  to  suggest  so  much  force  and  power. 

And  during  the  whole  time,  Dessie  remained  looking 
calmly  and  steadily  at  him,  watching  him  without  saying 
a  word. 


CHAPTER  IV 

A  BRIBE 

THE  success  of  Bessie's  stroke  lay  in  its  suddenness. 
At  a  moment  when  the  man  was  congratulating  himself 
on  his  extraordinary  good  fortune  in  having  won  the 
love  of  a  rich  woman  who  trusted  him  so  absolutely  that 
she  did  not  think  it  worth  while  to  make  the  slightest  in- 
quiry about  him,  the  girl  had  stepped  in  to  break  down 
everything. 

His  rage  and  chagrin  added  to  his  confusion,  and  it  was 
a  long  time  before  he  could  recover  himself  sufficiently  to 
think  connectedly  over  the  position. 

He  had  often  had  this  friend  of  Dora's  in  his  thoughts ; 
and  gauging  her  by  his  own  standards,  he  had  calculated 
that  she  would  probably  turn  out  to  be  no  more  than  a 
harpy,  who  might  resent  the  rich  woman  passing  out  of 
her  hands  and  into  his  own.  He  had  guessed  that  he 
would  in  all  probability  be  able  to  buy  over  this  opposition 
at  a  price ;  and  had  always  looked  forward  to  having  to  do 
something  of  the  kind. 

But  this  belief  was  only  a  faint  one  now,  as  he  looked 
into  the  resolute  little  face  of  his  accuser,  whose  eyes  were 
fixed  on  him  with  an  expression  of  such  sturdy  resolution 
that  he  felt  he  could  have  strangled  her. 

How  could  she  have  got  her  knowledge  of  him  ? 

There  was  not  a  detective  in  London  who  would  have 
recognised  him  in  that  character ;  scarcely  one  in  all  Eng- 
land ;  and  yet  this  weak  chit  of  a  girl  had  known  him  at 

46 


A  Bribe  47 

a  glance.  More  than  that,  she  had  been  shrewd  enough 
to  use  her  knowledge  dexterously  enough  to  outwit  him 
and  cause  him  to  behave  like  a  nervous  fool.  He  had  thus 
made  contradiction  more  than  difficult ;  yet  it  was  his  only 
course. 

"  You  must  excuse  my  illness,"  he  said,  when  at  length 
he  regained  self-possession,  speaking  as  in  a  voice  of  pain 
and  weakness.  "  I  am  subject  to  these  attacks — they  are 
at  my  heart — when  agitated  or  excited.  In  the  moment, 
I  was  so  angered  by  your  words ;  perhaps  not  unjustifiably 
angered,  you  will  allow;  and  for  the  moment  my  heart 
threatened  me.  Now  I  am  myself  again :  My  illness  has 
passed.  I  pray  you  to  excuse  me  if  I  have  caused  you  any 
uneasiness." 

"  You  did  not,"  returned  Dessie,  cuttingly.  "  I  thor- 
oughly understood  the  nature  of  the  attack." 

"  A  mistake  such  as  you  have  made,  Miss  Merrion, 
would  excite  anyone.  If  it  had  been  made,  and  the 
slander  uttered  by  a  man,  it  might  have  cost  him  his 
life." 

"  By  poison  do  you  mean  ?  I  should  not  be  surprised 
— if  you  had  the  opportunity." 

"  I  do  not  understand  your  reference.    If  you — " 

"  I  will  explain,"  interrupted  Dessie.  "  It  was  poison 
you  used  to  murder  M.  Duvivier.  That  is  what  I  mean." 
But  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  taken  twice  off  his  guard. 

"  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  only  once 
before  to-day ;  and  I  am  at  a  complete  loss  to  understand, 
therefore,  what  motive  you  can  possibly  have  in  making 
this  extraordinary  mistake  in  regard  to  me.  Perhaps  you 
will  tell  me." 

"  It  is  no  mistake.  My  motive  is  defence  of  my  friend 
from  a  man  I  consider  so  dangerous  as  yourself." 

"  Well,  I  can  only  assure  you  that  you  are  labouring 


48  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

under  an  extraordinary  delusion;  and  I  know  no  more 
than  this  chair  how  you  come  to  associate  me  with  the 
wretch  whose  name  you  mentioned  just  now — Lespard." 

"  You  mean  you  want  to  know  how  I  recognise  you," 
said  Dessie,  with  direct  logic.  "  That  is  my  business.  It 
is  enough  that  I  do  recognise  you  and  intend  to  use  my 
knowledge." 

"  You  speak  rather  in  riddles,  Miss  Merrion.  I  pre- 
sume you  mean  by  using  your  knowledge  that  you  intend 
to  try  and  separate  Mrs.  Markham  and  me  for  some  pur- 
poses of  your  own.  You  will  not  find  it  an  easy  task  to 
persuade  her  to  believe  what  is  an  untrue  charge  against 
me,  which  I  shall  not  have  the  slightest  difficulty  in  meet- 
ing at  any  time  and  in  any  way  she  may  wish.  The  posi- 
tion of  anyone  who  has  falsely  accused  me  will  not  be  a 
very  agreeable  one  then  in  her  opinion." 

"  You  mean  I  shall  forfeit  her  friendship  if  I  cannot 
make  my  words  good.  Yes;  that  is  exceedingly  prob- 
able." 

"  I  am  not  a  vindictive  man,  Miss  Merrion.  I  do  not 
wish  that  Dora  should  lose  a  friend  who  is  so  staunch 
as  you  evidently  are,  since  your  staunchness  for  her  leads 
you  to  take  a  step  of  this  shall  I  say,  hazardous  kind?  I 
assure  you  on  my  honour  as  a  gentleman  that  you  are 
profoundly  and  absolutely  mistaken.  I  pledge  you  my 
word,  further,  to  give  you  any  proof  of  your  mistake  that 
you,  or  anyone  acting  with  you,  like  to  ask  for.  More 
than  that,  I  will  bear  no  grudge  whatever  for  the  mistake 
— I  will  set  it  down  to  that  chivalrous  goodness  of  heart 
which  is  constantly  impelling  people  to  make  the  strangest 
errors.  But  I  do  not  wish  that  Dora  should  be  distressed 
and  pained  and  shocked  by  hearing  that  I,  her  affianced 
husband,  have  been  thus  accused ;  and  that  you,  her  dear- 
est friend,  have  made  so  vile  a  charge." 


A  Bribe  49 

"What  is  your  object  in  that?"  said  Dessie,  rather 
thinking  aloud  than  putting  a  question.  But  he  took  it 
up  readily  and  answered  promptly. 

"  I  have  no  object  except  to  satisfy  you  of  your  error; 
and  to  save  you  from  the  humiliation  of  having  your 
strange  delusion  exposed."  He  paused  a  moment  and 
then  added :  "  I  am  not  mistaken,  I  think,  in  saying  you 
are  engaged  to  be  married  to  a  barrister,  Mr.  Cheriton, 
is  it  not  ?  Well,  I  suggest  to  you  to  tell  him.  I  will  ac- 
company you,  if  you  like ;  and  then  he  can  name  the  best 
and  readiest  means  of  proving  to  you  my  identity.  Were 
I  in  France,  I  could  offer  you  five  hundred  proofs  in  an 
hour;  but  here — "  He  stopped  and  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. 

Dessie  looked  at  him  steadily,  as  if  to  try  and  read  his 
motive;  but  he  met  her  gaze  without  flinching,  and  .vith 
a  calm  assurance  that  baffled  her. 

"  I  need  no  proof  of  your  identity.  I  know  you,"  she 
said,  firmly. 

"  May  I  ask  on  what  ground  you  base  this  most  strange 
belief  ?  What  has  caused  it  ?  " 

"  No.  You  may  not.  At  least  I  cannot  answer.  It  is 
enough  that  I  know  it." 

He  knitted  his  thick  brows  a  moment  in  thought  and 
then  got  up  from  his  chair  and  said  in  a  sterner  and  more 
forceful  tone  than  he  had  yet  used : 

"  Well,  Miss  Merrion,  I  have  done  my  best  to  save  you 
from  the  unpleasant  consequences  of  your  own  extraor- 
dinary blunder.  I  have  resolutely  kept  in  check  my 
natural  resentment.  But  I  can  do  no  more.  I  have 
offered  to  convince  you  privately  of  your  unwarrantable 
blunder;  and  you  must  accept  the  consequences  of  your 
refusal.  You  must  take  what  course  you  please.  For 
my  part,  I  shall  see  Mrs.  Markham  at  once,  and  tell  her 


50  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

what  you  have  said.  Will  you  be  good  enough  to  have  a 
message  sent  to  her  that  I  desire  to  see  her  at  once  on 
urgent  business,  or  shall  I  ring  for  a  servant  ?  " 

He  walked  towards  the  bell  as  he  spoke,  and  laid  his 
hand  on  it. 

His  assurance  made  Dessie  waver.  Was  it  possible  that 
she  was  mistaken  ?  Fifty  stories  of  curious  and  wonder- 
ful resemblances  flashed  across  her  thoughts.  Ought  she 
not  to  make  quite  sure  before  speaking? 

He  was  watching  her  closely,  and  noted  her  indeci- 
sion. 

"  Come,  come,  Miss  Merrion,  we  have  carried  this  farce 
far  enough.  Will  you  send  the  message  to  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham,  or  shall  I  ?  " 

She  frowned  in  her  dilemma.  A  moment  later  he  said 
firmly : 

"  I  will  wait  no  longer,"  and  with  that  he  rang  the  bell 
sharply. 

"  You  will  give  me  these  proofs  ?  "  she  asked,  quickly. 

"  You  have  refused  them.  I  prefer  my  way  now," 
he  answered,  abruptly.  "  These  things  are  better  faced 
at  once." 

"  I  will  accept  your  offer  of  the  proofs,  if  you  like," 
said  Dessie,  almost  as  the  door  opened,  painfully  conscious 
of  the  weakness  implied  in  the  concession. 

"  As  you  will  then,"  answered  the  man  with  a  bow  and 
a  flash  of  triumph ;  "  but  it  is  only  at  your  request  I  con- 
sent now,  and  for  your  sake." 

Then  the  servant  opened  the  door. 

fl  There  is  nothing  wanted,  the  bell  was  rung  in  mis- 
take," said  Dessie.  The  servant  bowed  and  withdrew, 
and  then  the  Count  turned  calmly  to  Dessie  and  said: — 

"  And  what  now  do  you  propose  to  do  ?  " 

Dessie's  momentary  indecision  was  destined  to  cost  her 


A  Bribe  51 

dear.  At  first  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  what 
course  to  pursue ;  but  her  lover  came  into  her  thoughts. 

"  You  mentioned  Mr.  Cheriton's  name,"  she  said,  and 
then  stopped  abruptly.  She  was  about  to  propose  going  to 
him,  when  it  occurred  to  her  that  if  they  went  she  must 
tell  Tom  in  this  man's  presence  all  that  she  knew  about 
him,  and  how  she  had  come  to  recognise  him.  But  that 
would  open  up  such  a  wide,  new  field  of  investigation  into 
her  own  past,  that  it  startled  her.  She  had  yet  to  tell 
Tom  her  past  life,  and  preferred  to  do  that  in  her  own 
way  and  at  her  own  time.  Moreover,  she  was  quite  un- 
willing to  let  the  man,  who  was  now  eyeing  her  so  in- 
tently and  with  such  a  threatening  expression,  learn  that 
she  was  the  girl  for  whom  he  was  seeking,  and  to  whom 
the  jewels  had  been  passed  on. 

Her  companion  could  not  help  seeing  her  hesitation, 
and  was  shrewd  enough  to  presume  upon  it.  A  moment 
after  she  had  mentioned  Tom  Cheriton's  name  and  he 
saw  her  hesitation,  he  jumped  to  his  feet  with  a  gesture 
of  energy  and  said : — 

"  Nothing  will  suit  me  so  well.  Permit  that  I  send  at 
once  for  a  cab,  and  we  will  go  together  to  his  chambers 
and  lay  the  facts  before  him.  It  is  better  for  your  sake 
that  this  mistake  of  yours  should  not  go  beyond  the  nar- 
rowest circle.  Will  you  get  ready  at  once  ?  " 

Dessie  bit  her  lip  in  mortification.  He  was  playing  a 
part.  She  knew  that  well  enough,  and  believed  that  he 
guessed  she  knew  it.  But  the  chance  of  the  moment  was 
against  her,  and  she  was  unable  to  accept  the  very  test 
which  a  few  minutes  before  she  herself  had  proposed. 

"  I  shall  take  my  own  time  and  means  to  prove  the 
truth  of  what  I  have  said,"  she  answered;  and  a  feeble 
reply  it  was,  despite  the  firm,  sharp  tone  in  which  she 
spoke. 


$2  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

At  this  the  Count  threw  himself  down  in  his  chair 
again,  and  tossed  up  his  hands  with  a  gesture  of  surprise 
and  protest  as  if  at  a  loss  to  understand  her  conduct. 

"  Really,  Miss  Merrion,  I  put  it  to  you  whether  you  are 
not  asking  too  much  of  me.  You  make  this  most  hideous 
accusation  against  me;  I  deny  it  and  propose  a  means  of 
testing  it  privately;  you  first  reject  then  accept  the  test, 
and  then  reject  it  again;  and  now  you  ask  me  to  allow 
myself  to  lie  quietly  under  a  foul  suspicion  of  this  kind 
for  an  indefinite  period  while  you  take  your  own  time  to 
satisfy  yourself  that  you  have  made  an  egregious  blunder. 
I  will  do  much,  very  much,  for  a  friend  of  my  Dora's — 
but  do  not  you  yourself  think  that  this  is  asking  too  much  ? 
I  am  bound,  in  defence  of  my  own  honour,  to  request  that 
you  allow  me  to  satisfy  you  at  once  of  your  mistake.  I 
will  propose  another  test.  If  you  have  private  reasons 
for  not  exposing  to  your — to  Mr.  Cheriton — the  reasons 
of  your  supposed  acquaintance  with  this  murderer,  this 
Lesparde — these  reasons  which  enable  you  to  think  you 
recognise  him  in  me — then  let  us  take  another  course." 
There  was  a  suggestion  of  threat  in  this,  and  Dessie 
winced  at  it,  as  the  man  paused  to  give  it  expression  be- 
fore continuing.  "  Let  us  go  together  quietly,  you  and  I 
alone,  to  Scotland  Yard.  There  will  be  men  there  who 
will  probably  know  quite  well  what  has  become  of  this 
man  you  seem  to  know,  this  Lesparde;  and  they  will  be 
able  to  at  once  point  you  out  the  mistake." 

His  eyes  were  rivetted  on  hers  as  he  put  this  daring 
proposal — made  with  a  double  object:  To  seem  absolutely 
sincere  in  his  innocence,  and  to  ascertain  whether  the 
reasons  which  kept  Dessie  from  telling  her  lover  would 
also  keep  her  from  telling  the  police — and  when  he  saw 
her  wince,  he  got  up  again  with  the  same  assumed  readi- 
ness to  start  at  once. 


A  Bribe  53 

But  a  moment's  rapid  consideration  sufficed  to  let  the 
girl's  quick  wits  see  that  though  there  were  reasons  why 
she  would  be  unwise  to  go  to  the  police  with  her  story, 
it  was  absolutely  impossible  for  him  to  go.  It  was  a 
piece  of  bluff  in  which  she  felt  she  would  be  quite  safe 
in  out-bidding  him.  She  sat  silent  a  moment  as  if  con- 
sidering the  suggestion,  and  then  rising,  said  deliber- 
ately : — 

"  That  seems  to  be  a  proof  that  would  be  conclusive ; 
and,  as  you  say,  it  can  be  obtained  quite  privately  by  us 
two  alone.  I  will  accept  the  offer.  I  will  go  and  put  on 
my  hat,  and  will  accompany  you  without  loss  of  time. 
I  quite  see  that  it  is  unfair  for  me  to  leave  this  matter 
unprobed  a  minute  longer  than  necessary." 

"  Certainly,"  he  assented,  without  changing  a  muscle  of 
his  face ;  and  he  held  the  door  open  for  her  as  she  left  the 
room  to  get  ready.  She  was  astonished  and  shaken  by 
this ;  but  she  was  not  absent  many  minutes,  and  when  she 
returned  she  found  him  ready  with  an  excuse  to  flinch 
from  the  visit  to  the  police. 

"  Something  has  recurred  to  me ;  and  I  fear  it  will  be 
inexpedient  for  me  to  make  this  visit.  A  minute's  re- 
flection has  caused  me  to  take  a  much  graver  view  of  the 
matter.  So  much  hangs  upon  the  result  to  me  that  I 
cannot  consent  to  keep  it  private  merely  to  yourself  and 
myself.  Besides,  when  you  come  to  think  of  it,  it  would 
be  ridiculous  to  walk  into  Scotland  Yard  and  say,  '  This 
young  lady  thinks  I  am  a  French  murderer;  please  con- 
vince her  I  am  nothing  of  the  kind.'  They  would  laugh 
at  us  both  and  send  us  packing  about  our  business  to  go 
and  verify  my  identification  in  a  proper  way." 

"  I  knew  you  didn't  mean  to  go,  even  when  you  pro- 
posed it,"  said  Dessie,  curtly.  "  But  your  reason  is  not 
what  you  say,  and  you  know  that  perfectly  well." 


54  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  You  make  full  use  of  your  woman's  privilege  to  say 
things  a  man  dare  not  say,"  said  her  antagonist,  angry 
because  of  the  defeat.  "  I  trust  you  will  be  as  generous 
with  your  apologies  when  you  know  the  truth  as  you  have 
been  with  your  sneers  now." 

"  I  know  the  truth  already,"  retorted  Bessie,  sharply. 

"  Well,  will  you  be  good  enough  now  to  say  what  you 
propose  to  do?  I  have  some  engagements,  but  I  am  re- 
turning to  this  house  again  this  afternoon.  I  am  dining 
here  again  with  Mrs.  Markham.  I  shall  then  tell  her  what 
you  have  said,  unless,  indeed — and  this  will  be  the  best 
course — you  tell  me  how  this  strange  idea  originated.  I 
can  then,  perhaps,  dust  away  the  whole  cobweb." 

"  The  knowledge  is  based  on  my  own  recognition  of 
you.  I  myself  know  you  to  be  the  man  I  say." 

"  Is  that  the  whole  extent  of  your  belief  ?  A  mistake  in 
identity?" 

"  It  is  quite  enough  for  me,"  returned  Dessie,  curtly. 
"  The  proofs  will  be  easily  forthcoming.  I  can  put  my 
hand  on  them." 

"  You  are  a  difficult  young  woman  to  deal  with ;  but 
I  think  I  can  see  your  motive,  clever  as  it  is.  You  wish 
to  set  Mrs.  Markham  against  me.  You  are  afraid  that 
you  will  lose  that  control  of  her  money  which  your  present 
influence  gives  you.  You  start  this  cock  and  bull  story 
about  my  being  some  French  criminal  in  disguise — not 
because  you  believe  it  yourself  and  think  there  is  the  re- 
motest atom  of  truth  in  the  accusation,  but  for  a  very 
astute  reason  nevertheless.  You  calculate  that  it  will  in- 
duce your  friend  and  patron  to  institute  some  kind  of 
exhaustive  investigation  into  my  character,  and  you 
reckon  that  in  such  a  case  there  may  be  discovered  some 
one  incident  or  other  which  you  can  twist  and  distort  and 
magnify  until  in  your  clever  white  hands  it  will  be  enough 


A  Bribe  55 

to  separate  us  and  allow  you  to  keep  your  rich  friend's 
riches  for  yourself."  He  paused,  screwed  up  his  eyes, 
and  looked  at  the  girl  through  the  little  slits. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Dessie,  in  a  plain  matter  of  fact  tone. 

"  You  are  judging  others — me,  that  is — by  your  own 
standard."  Dessie  could  not  wholly  restrain  a  slight 
start  at  this  unexpected  thrust.  "  You  have  secrets  in 
your  life  that  you  don't  wish  exposed  to  every  prying  eye 
• — not  even  your  lover's  eye.  You  reckon  that  if  that  be 
so  with  a  young  girl  beginning  life  like  you,  it  is  much 
more  likely  to  be  the  case  with  a  man  half  through  with 
it,  like  me.  Well,  as  it  happens,  you  are  almost  wholly 
wrong.  With  ninety-nine  men  out  of  every  hundred  the 
searchlight,  if  powerful  enough,  would  probably  find  an 
ugly  spot  somewhere  capable  of  a  very  sinister  interpre- 
tation. But  I  don't  believe  even  your  pretty  ingenuity 
could  do  much  harm  with  the  facts  you  would  find  in 
my  life.  Certainly  not  of  recent  years.  But,  like  most 
men  " — here  the  intensity  of  his  vigilant  watch  of  her 
face  seemed  to  increase — "  I  don't  want  such  an  inquiry, 
either  for  my  sake  or  that  of  others.  It  would  do  no  good 
to  anyone — though  it  could  do  no  harm  to  me." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Dessie,  again,  as  he  paused. 

"  You  could  do  no  good  for  yourself  by  it,  Miss  Mer- 
rion.  You  would  not  win  in  the  end.  You  would  not 
find  sufficient  to  part  Dora  and  me.  I  love  her.  She  loves 
me.  We  conjugate  every  tense  of  every  mood  of  the  verb 
to  love.  More,  she  trusts  me  as  I  trust  her.  There  is  not 
an  incident  in  all  my  life  about  which  a  word  of  explana- 
tion from  me  would  not  suffice  to  satisfy  her.  My  heart 
tells  me  that.  Therefore,  you  are  bound  to  lose — lose  her 
friendship,  her  patronage,  her  help,  her  money,  every- 
thing. You  must  see  that.  You  could  not  be  the  friend  of 
a  man  and  wife  whom  you  had  tried  malignantly  to  part." 


56  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

''  I  see  that,"  said  Bessie,  when  he  paused  again. 

"  Then  let  us  three  rather  be  good,  firm,  fast  friends, 
as  Dora  herself  would  wish.  It  will  be  better  worth  your 
while  to  do  that,  don't  you  think  ?  I  will  see  tfiat  it  is  so, 
indeed." 

"  '  Worth  my  while  ?  '    How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  am  frankness  itself,  and  we  are  alone  together.  I 
do  not  wish  to  have  these  doubts  poured  into  the  ears  of 
the  woman  I  love  and  am  to  marry.  For  the  sake  of 
others,  I  would  rather  have  no  such  inquiry.  If,  therefore, 
you  agree  to  see  this  as  I  do,  then,  whatever  you  wish  in 
reason,  shall  be  done — after  we  are  married." 

A  craftily-worded  bribe,  but  the  girl  intended  to  make 
him  speak  plainly.  She  knitted  her  brows  as  if  in 
thought,  and  then,  after  a  pause,  acting  diffidence  she 
said  slowly  and  hesitatingly, 

"  How  am  I  to  know  what  you  would  do,  and  that  you 
would  really  do  it  ?  I  do  not  wish  to  make  mischief  unin- 
tentionally." 

"  You  can  name  any  sum  that  you  would  like  to  give  to 
a  charity  up  to  five  thousand  pounds ;  and  you  shall  have 
it." 

There  was  no  mistake  now ;  and  Bessie's  honest  heart 
beat  with  anger  and  her  cheeks  flushed  with  shame  as  she 
bent  her  head  down  to  hide  her  face  from  him. 

In  the  pause  that  followed,  while  the  girl  was  fighting 
for  sufficient  composure  to  find  some  sort  of  reply,  the 
door  was  opened  quickly,  and  Mrs.  Markham  came  burst- 
ing in  upon  them. 

"I  thought  I'd  give  you  a  surprise,"  she  cried,  laugh- 
ing. "  You've  been  quite  long  enough  together,  too,  I 
think,  to  get  to  know  one  another  better.  And  I  shall  be 
jealous  of  you,  Bessie,  if  you  monopolise  Godefroi  longer. 
I  hope  you  are  getting  on  well  ?  "  And  she  looked  a  little 


A  Bribe  57 

'doubtfully  into  Bessie's  flushed  face,  which  bore  unmis- 
takable evidence  of  the  girl's  agitation. 

"  Miss  Merrion  and  I  have  had  a  most  interesting 
chat,"  said  the  Count,  taking  Dora's  hands  and  kissing 
them  both.  "  And  we  are  getting  to  understand  one 
another  most  completely.  I  am  beginning  to  admire  Miss 
Merrion's  cleverness  almost  as  much  as  you,  my  Dora; 
and  I  believe  we  shall  be  the  closest  of  friends.  But  you 
are  looking  radiant,  Dora;  and  I  was  afraid  you  were 
suffering  and  ill.  Even  illness  cannot  dim  your  eyes  or 
pale  your  cheeks,  or  hide  your  beauty." 

As  Dessie  watched  her  friend's  face,  she  saw  the  cheeks 
colour  with  pleasure  at  this  most  fulsome  compliment. 
She  longed  to  speak  out  and  tell  all  she  knew,  but  feared 
to  force  a  crisis  at  that  instant  and  without  further  re- 
flection as  to  her  best  line  of  action. 

When  she  was  silent,  she  caught  the  man's  dark  eyes 
fixed  upon  her  with  an  expression  of  triumph. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  DARING   ATTEMPT 

DESSIE  was  not  to  wait  long  before  she  had  a  startling 
and  terrible  proof  of  the  desperate  lengths  to  which 
her  antagonist  was  prepared  to  go  in  prosecuting  his 
scheme,  and  removing  any  obstacle  that  stood  in  his 
way. 

The  equivocal  relations  which  the  untimely  arrival  of 
Mrs.  Markham  produced  between  Dessie  and  the  Count 
were  too  distasteful  for  her  to  suffer  them  to  continue  one 
unnecessary  moment.  She  was  not  prepared  to  denounce 
him  at  once  to  her  friend  as  Rolande  Lespard;  she  was 
confident  in  her  belief,  but  wished  to  be  absolutely  certain 
and  to  be  in  possession  of  proof.  Nothing  short  of  that 
would  open  the  love-sealed  eyes  of  her  friend.  But 
neither  could  she  bring  herself  to  allow  the  man  to  remain 
in  the  belief  that  she  would  take  the  disgusting  bribe  he 
offered  for  her  silence. 

It  was  not  easy,  however,  to  find  an  opportunity  to 
speak  to  him  alone.  He  did  not  remain  long  that  morn- 
ing ;  and  as  soon  as  he  was  gone  Mrs.  Markham  plied  her 
with  questions,  which  Dessie  found  somewhat  difficult 
to  parry,  as  to  what  she  and  the  Count  had  talked  about  in 
their  long  conversation. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  like  him  better,"  she  said,  when 
they  had  gone  upstairs  together  and  the  widow  was 
changing  a  dainty  morning  wrapper  for  a  walking  cos- 
tume. "  I  was  sure  you  would  when  you  got  to  know 

58 


A  Daring  Attempt  59 

him  better.  He  is  the  dearest  and  best  fellow  that  ever 
lived.  Don't  you  think  so  now  ?  " 

"  You  can't  expect  me  to  go  so  far  as  that,  Dora." 

"  No,  I  don't  want  you  to.  But  he  is  a  dear  fellow, 
isn't  he?" 

"  Well,  that  is  scarcely  the  epithet  I  should  use  either," 
said  Dessie,  with  a  smile. 

"  What  epithet  would  you  use  then  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  him  thoroughly  enough  yet.  I'll  tell 
you  more  a  week  hence." 

"  By-the-bye,  what  were  you  doing  with  your  hat  on  ? 
You  weren't  going  out  ?  "  asked  the  widow  suddenly,  with 
a  sharp  glance. 

"  I  thought  of  going  out ;  that's  all,"  answered  Dessie, 
indifferently. 

"  What,  with  the  Count  de  Montalt  ?  Where  on  earth 
were  you  going  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  I  was  going  with  him,  dear,"  answered 
Dessie,  evasively,  but  hating  the  necessary  evasion. 
"  You  know  I'm  accustomed  to  wait  on  myself  and  run 
on  my  own  messages.  It's  nothing  for  me  to  pop  my 
hat  on  and  run  to  the  post,  and  so  on." 

"  I  don't  understand,  Dessie.  What  could  you  want  to 
run  out  to  the  post  for  in  the  middle  of  a  conversation 
with  Godef roi  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  What  a  puzzled  a  face  you  have,  dear.  You're  wrink- 
ling it  into  a  hundred  and  fifty  frowns  just  because  I  took 
my  hat  downstairs  instead  of  leaving  it  up  in  my  room. 
I  wish  I  could  make  it  a  little  mystery  for  you.  But  there 
isn't  one ;  "  and  she  laughed  and  kissed  her  friend  on  the 
forehead.  "  And  now,  Dora,  do  you  know,  we  must  talk 
of  something  that  is  serious.  I  must  go  home,  my  dear.  I 
.have  a  heap  of  work  waiting  for  me." 

."  But  you  can't  go  home  to-day,  nor  to-morrow.    I  tell 


60  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

you  what  I've  been  thinking.  I  want  you  to  come  and 
stop  here  for  a  few  weeks.  I'll  have  a  little  study  fitted 
up  for  you — just  where  you  like.  No  one  shall  interfere 
with  you.  You  shall  have  your  own  hours  for  work, 
and  a  latchkey  if  you  like — be  a  regular  new  woman,  and 
when  you  can  spare  time  give  yourself  to  me.  Do !  Tom 
Cheriton  can  come  and  see  you  just  as  he  does  at  your 
rooms.  I  should  like  him  and  Godefroi  to  be  friends. 
Do  come,  Dessie.  Stop  till  we're  married.  Do.  Let  us 
send  up  for  all  your  belongings.  But  there,  I  shan't  let 
you  say  no." 

"  I'll  come  for  a  time — -a  few  days,"  said  Dessie.  It 
occurred  to  her  that  in  this  way  she  could  the  better  carry 
out  her  plans.  "  But  I  won't  say  for  how  long.  But  I 
must  go  at  once  and  make  all  the  arrangements." 

"  You  mean  see  Tom,"  laughed  Mrs.  Markham.  "  But 
you  haven't  told  me  a  word  yet  of  all  that  you  and  Gode- 
froi talked  about  this  morning.  And  I'm  so  jealous  of 
you're  having  had  him  all  to  yourself  for  such  a  long 
time." 

"  I  can't  stop  now.  But  you  shall  know  every  word  as 
soon  as  I  get  a  fit  opportunity  of  telling  you."  And  in  this 
way  Dessie  escaped  saying  anything  for  the  moment,  and 
until  she  had  had  an  opportunity  of  a  talk  over  everything 
with  her  lover. 

She  left  the  house  and  hurried  to  her  own  rooms,  where 
a  great  disappointment  met  her.  A  letter  from  Tom 
Cheriton,  written  hastily  on  the  previous  evening,  told  her 
that  he  had  had  to  leave  town. 

"  D.  D.  (this  stood  for  "  Dearest  Dessie  "  in  their  lan- 
guage),— Our  hearts  are  to  be  subjected  to  the  awful 
strain  of  absence.  A  wire  has  just  come  saying  that  my 
uncle  is  ill,  and  wants  me  at  once  down  at  the  Smokehole 
—you  know  where  I  mean,  and  how  I  love  the  place.  But 


A  Daring  Attempt  61 

I  must  go — sacrificing  even  my  briefs.  -I  don't  suppose 
it's  serious.  I  hope  not.  But  the  dear  old  fellow  has  been 
so  good  to  me  that  I  wouldn't  disappoint  him  at  any  cost. 
I'll  write  you  to-morrow  from  The  Leas.  If  you  write 
me  very  nice  letters,  I'll  try  and  help  forward  that  little 
partnership  which  we  spoke  of  this  afternoon.  Ever  as 
ever.— T.  A.  A. 

"  T.  A.  A.^  stood  for  "  Tom  All  Alone,"  a  Dickens  re- 
ference which  gave  the  pair  of  cheery  lovers  great  pleas- 
ure. 

But  her  lover's  absence  from  town  now  was  particu- 
larly unwelcome  to  Dessie.  The  trouble  with  the  Count 
de  Montalt,  or  Rolande  Lespard,  or  whoever  he  might 
really  be,  placed  her  sadly  in  need  of  just  that  strong 
practical  counsel  which  she  knew  Tom  Cheriton  could 
give  her. 

Her  encounter  with  the  man  in  the  morning  had  left 
her  less  confident  in  her  own  strength  and  fighting  power 
than  she  had  been  before.  If  she  was  right  she  had  had 
infinitely  the  stronger  weapons  to  fight  with;  and  yet  he 
had  beaten  her.  Even  when  he  was  no  more  to  her  than 
a  name  and  a  threatening  shadow,  she  had  always  had  a 
sensation  of  fear  of  him  and  of  the  desperate  lengths  to 
which  she  believed  him  capable  of  going;  and  this  fear 
made  her  unwilling  to  struggle  with  him  single-handed. 

She  had  intended  to  tell  Tom  at  once  and  frankly  all 
that  she  intended  him  to  know  about  her  past,  so  that  they 
together,  working  in  complete  confidence,  might  expose 
the  man  and  save  Dora.  Tom  would  have  known  what  to 
do,  she  thought.  But  she  could  not  write  the  secrets  that 
would  have  to  be  whispered  when  her  lips  were  close  to 
his  ear. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait,  therefore — and 
delay  must  mean  that  she  must  either  go  on  letting  the 


62  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

man  believe  her  as  vile  as  himself — willing  to  sell  her  best 
friend  for  a  price — or  run  some  personal  risk  by  unde- 
ceiving him. 

Without  more  than  a  minute's  hesitation  she  chose  the 
latter  course.  She  would  tell  him  at  once  that  he  was  mis- 
taken in  her,  and  warn  him  to  keep  away  from  Dora.  She 
resolved  also  to  urge  Tom  Cheriton  to  come  back  as  soon 
as  possible ;  and  made  up  her  mind  to  go  and  stay  at  South 
Kensington  until  the  crisis  was  over.  She  accordingly 
made  all  the  necessary  arrangements  and  packed  such 
clothes,  books,  and  papers  as  she  would  need  for  a  stay  of 
some  weeks  if  necessary.  The  rest  of  her  papers  she 
locked  in  a  little  safe  she  had. 

That  done  she  wrote  to  her  lover,  telling  him  what  she 
meant  to  do,  and  urging  him  to  return  to  town  as  soon 
as  possible,  because  there  was  a  very  important  matter 
about  Mrs.  Markham's  Count  in  which  she  wished  to 
consult  him.  "  I  have  made  a  discovery  about  him  that 
frightens  me;  and  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  quite  what  to 
do.  I  want  your  help  and  advice ;  and  I  don't  want  to  get 
into  trouble  by  making  blunders,  as,  of  course,  you'll 
think  I'm  likely  to  do.  If  you  want  to  save  me  from  an 
ugly  intrigue,  hurry  back." 

Then  she  returned  to  South  Kensington,  hardening  her 
resolve  all  the  way,  to  tell  the  Count  de  Montalt  what  her 
intentions  were.  He  must  keep  away  from  South  Ken- 
sington until  Tom's  return,  or  she  would  tell  Dora  openly 
whom  she  believed  him  to  be. 

Chance  helped  her  to  an  excellent  opportunity  of  doing 
this.  As  she  turned  in  at  one  end  of  Edgecumbe  Square 
she  saw  the  Count  approaching  from  the  other.  She 
quickened  her  pace  therefore,  and  passing  the  house  met 
him. 

"  I  should  like  one  word  with  you,"  she  said,  curtly. 


A  Daring  Attempt  63 

"  A  thousand  if  you  will,"  he  answered,  raising  his  hat 
and  bowing.  "  Shall  we  turn  and  walk,  or  would  you  like 
another  appointment?  I  shall  always  be  charmed  to  be 
a  friend  of  yours  now,  Miss  Merrion." 

"  I  have  not  sought  your  friendship,  thank  you,"  said 
the  girl,  coldly,  "  and  will  not  accept  it.  What  I  wish  to 
say  now  is  that  I  repudiate  entirely  the  vile  offer  you 
made  this  morning  to  bribe  me.  I  only  let  you  speak 
without  interruption  so  that  I  might  know  how  far  you 
would  go.  I  have  only  this  to  say  now :  -If  you  dare  to 
come  again  to  Mrs.  Markham's  house  I  will  denounce  you 
at  once." 

His  face  grew  very  stormy,  and  a  heavy  frown  forced 
his  black  thick  eyebrows  together.  But  his  voice  was 
courteous  and  even  as  he  answered  : 

"  Do  you  mean  that,  unequivocally  and  absolutely  ?  Is 
there  no  consideration  will  induce  you  to  wait  at  least 
until  I  have  an  opportunity  of  getting  proofs  from 
France  ?  " 

"  When  you  have  them,"  said  Dessie,  contemptuously, 
"  tnen  by  all  means  come.  But  not  till  then." 

11  You  will  live  to  repent  this  bitterly,  Miss  Merrion. 
You  have  put  upon  me  a  wholly  undeserved  disgrace; 
and  if  I  accept  your  terms  it  is  only  because  I  wish  to 
spare  the  woman  who  is  to  be  my  wife,  and  whom  I  love 
with  all  my  heart,  from  the  pain  and  sorrow  which  such  a 
malignant  accusation  from  a  friend  like  yourself  would 
cause  her.  I  wish  you  had  been  as  considerate.  When  we 
meet  next,  I  shall  have  the  proofs  you  want." 

Then,  to  Dessie's  intense  surprise,  he  raised  his  hat, 
turned  and  walked  away.  She  had  not  for  an  instant  be- 
lieved that  this  single  stroke  would  have  so  immediate 
an  effect.  But  when  she  saw  him  pass  out  of  sight  round 
the  corner  of  the  square  her  spirits  rose,  and  as  she  ran 


64  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

up  the  broad  steps  of  Mrs.  Markham's  house  she  smiled 
in  high  glee. 

"  But  a  reaction  soon  set  in,  and  Dessie  began  to  fear 
that  such  a  victory  over  such  a  man  had  been  won  too 
cheaply,  and  that  this  apparently  weak  compliance  with 
her  terms  was  only  meant  as  a  cover  for  some  much 
stronger  move. 

And  she  soon  had  a  terrible  proof  that  this  was  so. 

When  the  Count  did  not  keep  his  appointment  for  that 
afternoon,  Mrs.  Markham  was  first  impatient,  then  irri- 
table, next  nervous,  and  lastly  full  of  anxiety  lest  some 
accident  had  occurred;  and  she  passed  quickly  through 
these  different  moods.  Dessie  could  not,  of  course,  tell 
her  what  she  knew  the  reason  to  be,  and  that  in  all  prob- 
ability the  expected  visitor  would  not  come  at  all.  But  she 
was  certainly  unprepared  for  what  happened. 

After  some  two  hours  of  waiting,  in  which  Dora  shed 
tears  more  than  once,  and  seemed  inclined  to  be  hyster- 
ical, the  Count  was  announced.  He  came  in  full  of 
apologies  to  Mrs.  Markham  for  the  delay,  and  told 
copious  untruths,  as  Dessie  knew,  about  the  cause  of  his 
lateness. 

The  widow  was  too  excited  and  agitated  by  his  arrival 
to  pay  any  heed  to  the  greeting  between  the  other  two. 
The  man's  nonchalant  impudence  was  so  complete  that 
Dessie  was  at  a  momentary  loss  what  to  do,  and  before 
she  had  recovered  herself,  he  was  bead-ing  over  her  with 
a  grave  bow. 

"  I  have  brought  the  proofs,"  he  whispered  and  then 
turned  to  speak  again  to  Mrs.  Markham., 

He  had  scarcely  arrived  when  afternoon  tea  was 
brought  in,  and  with  it  came  the  young  fellow  who  had 
long  been  in  love  with  Dora,  George  Vezey^  After  greet- 
ing the  Count  in  any  but  a  cordial  manner,  he  sat  down 


A  Daring  Attempt  65 

by  Dessie  and  lapsed  into  a  silence  so  unusual  that  the 
others  rallied  him  upon  the  change. 

The  Count,  on  the  other  hand,  was  all  lightness  of 
speech,  jest,  and  compliment ;  so  much  so  that  Dessie 
was  sure  he  had  some  purpose  to  hide,  and  she  watched 
him  with  quiet  but  unrelaxing  vigilance. 

Something  in  his  manner  made  her  very  suspicious  of 
him.  Presently  she  noticed  that  while  insisting  upon 
handing  her  a  cup  of  tea,  he  stood  holding  it  for  a  moment 
with  his  back  to  her,  while  he  finished  telling  a  story  he 
had  begun,  and  he  let  the  spoon  fall,  and  had  to  stoop, 
with  his  back  still  towards  Dessie,  in  order  to  pick  it  up 
and  replace  it  on  the  saucer.  It  was  only  a  little  thing, 
but  Dessie  saw  that  he  had  dropped  the  spoon  intention- 
ally, and  believed  he  had  done  it  to  get  an  opportunity  to 
tamper  with  the  tea. 

She  knew  the  man  was  an  expert  in  poisons;  and  in- 
stantly she  resolved  not  to  drink  a  drop  of  it.  She  stirred 
it  slowly,  pretended  to  taste  it,  and  made  a  wry  face. 

"  My  dear  Dora,  what  have  you  done  with  my  tea  ? 
You  are  so  excited,  you  have  given  me  yours.  It  is  all 
sugar.  It  will  just  suit  you.  Give  me  yours." 

"  Very  well,  dear.     Give  it  me." 

"  Allow  me,"  said  the  Count,  quickly  going  to  Dessie, 
and  holding  out  his  hand  for  the  cup. 

"  Thank  you,  don't  trouble.  I  am  going  to  change  my 
chair,"  answered  Dessie,  coolly,  trying  to  keep  the  cup 
from  him. 

"  Pardon  me,  I  cannot  allow  that ;  it  is  a  trouble,"  he 
replied,  and  pushing  forward,  he  deliberately  took  the 
cup  and  saucer  from  her,  and  then,  as  if  in  confusion, 
let  them  drop  with  a  crash  to  the  ground,  uttering  loud 
apologies  and  expressions  of  regret  for  his  clumsiness. 

A  glance  showed  Dessie    that    though    the  cup  was 


66  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

broken,  and  most  of  the  tea  spilt,  there  was  yet  enough 
left  in  the  fragment  of  the  cup,  and  in  the  saucer,  for  the 
purpose  of  analysis,  to  confirm  or  dissolve  her  suspicions. 

"  Oh,  Dora,  it  is  my  favourite  cup,"  she  cried,  and 
stooping  took  the  larger  half  of  the  broken  cup,  poured 
into  it  what  tea  remained  in  the  saucer,  and,  without  wait- 
ing to  say  more,  hurried  with  it  out  of  the  room.  As  she 
was  passing  the  Count,  he  made  a  quick  movement,  as 
if  to  strike  the  cup  from  her  hand,  under  the  pretence  of 
assisting  her,  but  she  avoided  him,  and  as  she  glanced  into 
his  face  their  eyes  met,  and  he  knew  that  she  had  dis- 
covered his  daring  attempt  to  poison  her,  and  was  es- 
caping with  the  proofs  of  his  guilt. 

She  knew  now  well  enough  why  he  had  ventured  to  re- 
turn to  the  house,  and  why  he  had  seemed  to  yield  so 
readily  when  they  had  met  in  the  Square. 

He  had  been  to  fetch  the  drug  which  he  needed  for  the 
attempt  on  her  life. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE  incident  had  happened  so  suddenly,  passed  so 
quickly,  and  arisen  out  of  such  a  commonplace  circum- 
stance, that  until  Dessie  was  alone  in  her  own  room  she 
did  not  realise  fully  that  she  had  actually  had  a  most  nar- 
row escape  of  losing  her  life. 

The  simple  manner  in  which  the  attempt  had  been  made, 
its  consummate  daring,  and  the  audacity  of  endeavouring 
to  poison  her  in  a  cup  of  tea  given  so  openly  before  her 
friands,  filled  her  with  such  intense  astonishment,  that 
she  could  only  marvel  at  her  assailant's  recklessness. 

But  astonishment  soon  gave  way  to  fear.  The  man 
who  would  dare  such  an  attempt  would  dare  anything; 
and  Dessie  longed  earnestly  for  Tom  Cheriton's  return, 
and  began  to  regret  that  she  had  taken  her  first  step  in 
his  absence.  She  was  no  match  for  this  murderer,  and 
as  she  sat  and  eyed  the  broken  fragile  cup,  with  its  few 
drops  of  what  she  believed  to  be  a  subtle  poison,  she  grew 
almost  afraid  to  be  alone,  and  trembled  and  glanced 
about  her  nervously,  as  if  expecting  an  attack  even  in  her 
own  room. 

It  was  some  minutes  before  she  could  shake  off  her 
agitation  and  regain  any  degree  of  self-possession.  Then 
she  emptied  the  contents  of  the  cup  into  a  small  bottle, 
and  this  she  carefully  hid  lest  anyone  should  take  it  away 
in  mistake. 

6? 


68  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

After  that  she  washed  out  the  cup,  placed  it  on  the 
table  that  had  been  arranged  for  her  writing  materials, 
and  then  returned  to  the  small  drawing-room  in  which 
the  incident  had  occurred. 

"  Whatever  is  the  matter  with  you  to-day,  child  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Markham,  as  she  entered.  "  You've  been  doing 
all  sorts  of  curious  things." 

"  I  suppose  it  must  be  the  effect  of  Tom's  absence," 
answered  the  girl,  with  a  smile. 

"  Or  the  result  of  being  introduced  to  de  Montalt,"  said 
George  Vezey.  "  People  do  all  sorts  of  odd  things  after 
they've  been  introduced  to  him."  This  with  a  glance  at 
Mrs.  Markham.  "  I  believe  you  have  the  evil  eye,  Count, 
or  some  such  beastly  thing  as  that." 

"  That  is  a  very  unpleasant  as  well  as  a  very  stupid 
thing  to  say,  George,"  said  Mrs.  Markham,  annoyed  by 
this ;  but  the  Count  laughed  good  humouredly  and  easily. 
He  did  not  care  a  rap  for  the  young  fellow's  temper ;  in- 
deed he  rather  enjoyed  it.  It  was  not  in  any  way  likely 
to  interfere  with  his  plans ;  so  he  could  afford  to  be  tol- 
erant of  the  other's  temper. 

The  relations  between  Mrs.  Markham  and  young 
Vezey  were  naturally  strained  just  now.  Till  the  Count's 
coming  they  had  been  virtually  engaged.  Vezey  was 
good-looking,  fair,  slim,  and  well-tailored ;  and  he  rather 
affected  the  effeminate  manner  of  a  young  fellow  about 
town.  But  in  Bessie's  opinion  there  was  more  affecta- 
tion than  effeminacy  about  him ;  and  she  liked  him,  and 
believed  him  to  be  much  more  capable  than  his  surface 
manner  suggested. 

Mrs.  Markham  had-  been  in  the  habit  of  making  use  of 
him  for  all  conceivable  purposes ;  and  he  had  taken  a 
genuine  pleasure  in  dancing  attendance  upon  her  every- 
where, and  in  helping  her  in  the  thousand  and  one  ways 


A  Reckless  Enemy  69 

in  which  an  attentive  man  can  help  the  woman  he  loves 
to  get  the  most  enjoyment  out  of  life. 

But  the  promotion  of  de  Montalt  had  changed  his  view 
of  things  altogether.  Vezey  found  himself  deposed  from 
his  position,  and  took  the  change  in  very  ill  part,  disliking 
the  Count  proportionately.  Nothing  irritated  him  more 
than  for  Dora  to  take  the  other  man's  part  against  him. 

He  let  the  matter  pass  now,  however,  with  nothing 
more  antagonistic  than  an  angry  glance  at  de  Montalt, 
who  smiled  more  broadly  as  he  saw  it.  The  relations 
between  three  out  of  the  four  were  thus  ruffled,  and  the 
conversation  lagged  rather  heavily  until  the  two  men  left 
the  house,  to  which  they  were  to  return  later  to  dine. 

After  dinner  the  Count  and  George  Vezey  stayed  so 
long  over  their  wine  and  cigars  that  Mrs.  Markham  grew 
impatient;  and  when  they  came  into  the  drawing-room 
Vezey  went  and  sat  by  Dessie  at  one  end  of  the  long 
room,  in  one  of  the  large  bay  windows. 

"I  hate  that  chappie,  Miss  Merrion,  don't  you?"  he 
said,  soon  after  he  joined  her.  "  I  believe  he's  an  awful 
bounder,  and  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  think  what  she 
sees  in  him.  Can  you?" 

"  Why  did  you  introduce  him  ?  "  asked  Dessie. 

"  Why  was  I  an  idiot,  you  mean  ?  The  questions  are 
about  the  same  in  different  forms.  The  truth  is  he  got 
me  out  of  a  scrape  I  was  a  fool  ever  to  get  into.  I  was 
over  in  Antwerp  with  a  rowdy  American  I  picked  up  in 
the  playrooms  at  Ostend,  and  in  the  course  of  things  we 
got  into  a  beastly  street  row.  Before  you  could  say 
Tommyrot,  a  lot  of  beastly-looking  sailor  chappies  were 
round  us,  and  more  than  one  bally  knife  was  out  of  its 
sheath.  I  was  in  a  ghastly  funk,  I'll  own,  and  would 
have  given  five  pounds  for  the  sight  of  a  police  Johnnie. 
Then  this  Count  fellow  bang  slangs  into  the  middle  of  th<? 


jo  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

whole  show,  and  before  the  beggars  with  the  knives 
quite  knew  what  was  happening,  he  had  waltzed  us 
out  of  the  mess,  and  into  a  place  of  safety.  I'm  bound 
to  say  he's  a  plucky  Johnnie,  and  awfully  handy  with 
his  fists.  He  floored  two  or  three  of  the  beggars  in  rip- 
ping style." 

"  You  shouldn't  get  into  such  places,"  laughed  Dessie. 
"  I'm  bound  to  say  it  served  you  right.  You're  not  to 
be  trusted." 

"  That's  all  right,  I  know.  And  if  I  could  have  paid 
the  fellow  a  reward — a  fiver,  or  two  or  three  of  them, 
for  that  matter — I  shouldn't  have  cared.  But  he's  not 
the  sort  of  man  you  can  offer  coin  to,  don't  you  know, 
is  he?  Well,  he  froze  to  me,  as  ill  luck  would  have  it, 
and  when  he  knew  I  was  staying  at  Ostend,  nothing 
would  please  him  but  that  he  should  come  over  to  the 
same  place.  And  then,  what  the  dickens  was  I  to  do? 
How  could  I  help  it?  I  had  to  introduce  him.  He  did 
the  rest  himself.  But  I'd  rather  have  had  one  of  those 
beggars'  knives  stuck  into  me  than  what's  happened." 
He  spoke  quite  savagely. 

"  But  do  you  mean  really  that  you  know  no  more  of 
the  Count  than  you  have  told  me,  Mr.  Vezey  ?  " 

"  Not  a  syllable,  except  a  lot  of  gas  he  himself  has 
blown  off  about  his  estates,  and  family,  and  connections, 
and  a  lot  more  rot  of  that  sort." 

"  And  does  Dora  know  how  little  you  know?  " 

"  Oh  she's  got  no  eyes  for  anything  but  his  face,  and 
no  ears  except  for  his  sickening  compliments.  I  could 
kick  the  fellow  when  I  hear  them." 

"  Why  don't  you,  then  ?  "  said  Dessie,  quietly. 

"  What  good  would  it  do  ?  I  should  get  a  bally  hiding, 
and  be  shut  out  of  this  house  for  my  pains." 

"  And  what  do  you  yourself  really  think  of  him  ?  " 


A  Reckless  Enemy  71 

"  That  he's  a  bounder,  or  worse.  Ton  my  soul,  I'm 
sometimes  afraid  of  what  I  do  think  about  him.  He  does 
such  devilish  odd  things.  Here's  an  instance  to-night, 
even.  After  you  two  had  left  the  table,  we  sat  smoking 
cigarettes  for  a  couple  of  minutes,  and  then  he  began  to 
chaff  me  about  all  sorts  of  rot ;  and  at  last  about  my  not 
being  able  to  smoke  strong  cigars.  He  riled  me :  He  al- 
ways does.  His  manner's  enough  to  do  that,  to  tell  the 
truth.  He  seems  to  rub  my  hair  the  wrong  way;  and 
I  let  him  run  on,  till  he  bet  me  a  fiver  I  couldn't  smoke 
one  of  his  cigars  with  him  at  a  sitting  without  leaving  my 
chair  to  be  sick.  Of  course  I  took  him  on.  A  fiver's  a 
fiver,  to  say  nothing  of  the  pleasure  of  winning  it  from 
him." 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  Dessie,  showing  more  interest  in  the 
incident  than  her  companion  expected. 

"  We  lighted  up,  each  taking  a  weed  from  his  case — 
and  strong  ones  they  were,  too,  I'll  own — and  puffed 
away.  But  before  we'd  been  a  couple  of  minutes  at  that 
game  he  put  his  hand  to  his  heart,  or  his  throat,  or  some- 
where, and  said  he  felt  queer,  and  must  get  a  box  of 
lozenges  from  his  great  coat.  I  told  him  one  of  the 
servants  could  get  it  or  bring  him  his  coat;  but  that 
wouldn't  suit  him  it  seemed,  and  he  went  out  of  the 
room  saying  he'd  be  back  in  a  minute.  He  was  twenty 
minutes  gone,  if  he  was  a  second.  I'd  nearly  finished  the 
great  black  cigar  he  gave  me  when  he  came  back;  so  I 
know  how  long  he  was.  His,  by  the  way,  was  scarcely 
touched.  He  said  he  hadn't  brought  the  lozenges  he 
wanted,  and  had  been  out  to  buy  them.  But  his  face 
looked  as  black  and  angry  as  his  dress  coat,  and  he  mut- 
tered something  or  other  about  not  being  well,  and  he 
seemed  awfully  excited.  When  I  asked  him  why  he 
hadn't  been  smoking  his  cigar,  he  first  swore,  and  then 


72  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

said  I  was  an  idiot;  that  he  had  finished  his  first  cigar, 
and  that  was  his  second.  But  I  didn't  believe  him, 
though  what  the  deuce  he'd  been  doing  I  don't  know." 

His  hearer  had  a  shrewd  guess,  but  didn't  express  it. 
Instead  of  that  she  laughed  and  asked — 

"  Did  he  give  you  the  '  fiver,'  Mr.  Vezey  ?  " 

"  Yes,  with  some  sort  of  rubbish  about  it  being  the 
cheapest  and  yet  dearest  five  pounds'  worth  he  had  ever 
bought;  I  don't  know  what  he  meant." 

After  this  answer  Dessie  turned  the  subject,  and 
chatted  about  some  other  matters.  George  Vezey's 
thoughts  were,  however,  all  tinged  with  one  colour — 
regret  for  having  lost  Mrs.  Markham — and  he  was  soon 
back  to  the  same  theme;  but  before  he  had  been  long 
indulging  his  lament,  Dessie  made  an  excuse  and  left 
him. 

She  could  not  wait  any  longer  to  verify  the  suspicion 
that  had  occurred  to  her,  as  to  the  object  of  the  man's 
absence  from  the  dinner  table. 

She  ran  up  to  her  room,  feeling  much  excited. 

A  glance  at  the  place  confirmed  her  suspicions.  Some- 
one had  been  there,  turning  over  her  things. 

When  she  had  dressed  for  dinner  she  had  left  every- 
thing in  order.  The  luggage  from  her  own  rooms  had 
been  brought  to  the  house,  and  she  had  unpacked  before 
dressing.  The  books  and  the  papers  she  had  put  back 
into  one  of  the  boxes — a  strong  iron  box  of  German 
make,  with  a  peculiar  key  and  fastening — and  the  clothes 
and  hats  she  had  placed  away  in  the  wardrobe  and 
drawers.  She  had  also  taken  pains  to  set  out  the  little 
table  which  had  been  placed  for  her  writing  in  one  of  the 
windows.  On  this  her  writing  materials  lay  ready — a 
large  blotting  pad  which  she  always  used  and  a  folding 
desk  slope. 


A  Reckless  Enemy  73 

At  the  right  hand  side  of  the  slope  close  to  the  window 
she  had  left  the  broken  cup. 

It  was  gone. 

Many  of  the  things  in  the  room  had  been  turned  over 
and  disarranged.  The  drawers,  in  which  everything  had 
been  laid  tidily,  had  evidently  been  hurriedly  searched, 
and  an  attempt  made  to  put  the  contents  back  so  that  a 
superficial  observation  might  not  detect  that  they  had 
been  disturbed. 

But  to  Dessie,  knowing  what  she  did,  the  trail  of  the 
searcher  was  easy  to  follow. 

She  rang  the  bell  and  questioned  the  maid  who  had 
charge  of  the  room.  She  knew  the  girl  well,  and  liked 
her. 

"  Martin,  I  broke  a  teacup,  and  brought  it  up  here, 
I  think,  so  that  it  could  be  kept.  Have  you  seen  it?  I 
am  almost  sure  I  left  it  on  the  writing  table  when  I 
went  down  to  dinner." 

"  I  saw  it  when  I  brought  you  some  hot  water,  Miss, 
and  when  I  was  helping  you  to  put  your  things  away,  and 
afterwards  when  you  were  dressing.  But  I  don't  know 
exactly  where  you  put  it.  I  didn't  see  it  when  I  came 
up  afterwards  to  light  the  gas  and  make  the  room  ready." 

"  When  was  that,  Martin?  " 

"  I  was  very  late  to-night,  Miss.  I'd  only  been  down 
about  five  minutes  or  so  when  you  rang  the  bell  now." 

"  Then  I  must  have  taken  it  down  myself  without 
thinking  about  it.  I  suppose  none  of  the  other  servants 
would  be  likely  to  take  it  away,  thinking  it  was  put  out 
to  be  thrown  away  as  it  was  broken  ?  " 

"  No  one  comes  into  the  room  except  myself,  Miss." 

"  You're  quite  certain  of  that  ?  " 

"  Quite  positive,  Miss,  quite,"  said  the  girl,  emphati- 
cally. 


74  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  Well,  of  course,  it's  of  no  consequence  whatever," 
said  Dessie,  pleasantly.  "  Only  I  wanted  to  see  whether 
I  could  really  be  so  foolish  as  to  mean  to  do  one  thing 
with  it  and  then  do  another.  And  it's  quite  clear  I  did." 

"  Is  there  anything  else,  Miss  ?  "  asked  the  maid. 

"  Nothing,  thank  you."  But  when  the  girl  had  closed 
the  door  behind  her  and  gone  Bessie's  face  grew  very 
grave.  There  might  be  some  gap  in  the  evidence,  but 
she  was  content  with  it  and  accepted  it  as  proof  that  her 
antagonist  had  left  his  companion  at  the  dinner  table, 
after  securing  that  he  would  stop  there  by  making  the 
bet  with  him,  and  had  then  come  to  her  room  to  search 
for  the  cup  containing  the  remnant  of  the  poison,  so  that 
he  could  destroy  the  traces  of  his  deed.  And  the  frown 
which  George  Vezey  had  said  darkened  his  face  on  his 
return  was  caused  by  his  failure. 

The  bottle  into  which  Dessie  had  poured  the  few  drops 
of  poisoned  tea  was  a  small  one,  and  in  her  hurry  she  had 
thrust  it  right  into  the  middle  of  the  bed  between  the 
mattresses.  She  felt  for  it  now,  and  a  smile  of  triumph 
lighted  her  face  as  she  pulled  it  out  and  held  it  up  to  the 
gaslight  to  examine  it. 

But  as  she  turned  to  lock  it  away  a  fresh  thought  oc- 
curred to  her.  If  this  man  meant  still  to  try  and  get 
possession  of  the  bottle,  had  she  not  better  hide  it  instead 
of  merely  locking  it  up?  This  suggested  to  her  that  she 
should  examine  her  locked  box  very  closely,  to  ascertain 
whether  it  had  been  opened. 

A  scrutiny  of  the  lock  showed  her  nothing,  nor  when 
she  unfastened  it  could  she  be  more  certain.  She  had 
put  the  books  and  papers  into  it  in  a  great  hurry  without 
any  method,  while  she  was  not  quite  certain  what  papers 
she  had  brought  with  her.  But  the  contents  were 
fumbled  together  in  a  manner  which  left  it  quite  an  open 


A  Reckless  Enemy  75 

question  whether  or  not  they  had  been  tampered  with  in 
the  same  manner  as  the  things  in  the  drawers,  and  as  a 
result  the  girl  determined  not  to  put  the  poison  there, 
but  to  find  some  secure  hiding-place  for  it  somewhere 
in  the  house. 

This  resolve  alone  showed  how  great  and  growing 
was  her  fear  of  the  man  who  was  thus  proving  himself 
so  daring  an  antagonist.  This  fear  was  uppermost  in  her 
mind  as  she  walked  uneasily  up  and  down  the  room, 
thinking  closely  what  ought  to  be  her  next  step  in  the 
struggle  with  the  dangerous  man  who  was  ready  to  go 
to  such  desperate  lengths  against  her  in  defence  of  his 
purpose. 

For  the  moment  she  was  literally  afraid  to  expose  him ; 
and  when  she  went  downstairs  again  it  was  with  the 
resolve  to  say  nothing  that  night,  but  to  wire  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning  to  Tom  to  come  at  once  to  London 
and  help  her  to  right  matters.  At  the  same  time  she  re- 
solved to  have  the  poison  analysed. 

As  soon  as  she  opened  the  drawing-room  door,  the 
Count's  eyes  fell  on  her,  and  she  seemed  to  read  in  his 
face  that  he  had  guessed  the  object  of  her  absence  from 
the  room  and  what  she  had  discovered. 

Five  minutes  later  a  manoeuvre  of  his  had  brought 
Dora  and  George  Vezey  together  at  one  end  of  the  room ; 
and  then  making  an  excuse  he  crossed  directly  to  Dessie, 
who  shuddered  as  he  approached. 

"  I  want  you  to  see  this  view,  Miss  Merrion,  and  let 
me  tell  you  what  happened  here,"  he  said.  He  was  hold- 
ing a  photograph  in  his  hand  and  spoke  loud  so  that  the 
others  could  hear.  But  as  soon  as  he  was  by  the  girl's 
side,  he  dropped  his  voice,  and  said  quietly,  and  as  though 
he  was  describing  some  incident  connected  with  the  photo- 
graph. 


76  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  I  know  where  you  have  been,  and  why.  You  think 
you  have  made  a  discovery.  I  know  that  I  have.  Be 
careful  what  you  do.  I  know  you  now,  and  will  speak 
to  you  to-morrow  morning  at  eleven  o'clock,  at  the  far- 
ther end  of  the  Square,  near  Cromwell  Road.  We  must 
understand  one  another,  you  and  I,  and  be  friends,  or  it 
is  you,  not  I,  will  suffer.  Be  warned  in  time.  I  will  give 
you  the  proofs  you  want,  together  with  some  others  you 
don't  want " — this,  with  a  pause  and  a  smile  of  infinite 
cunning  and  menace — "  to-morrow  morning.  Yes,  just 
at  that  point,"  he  broke  off,  speaking  in  another  tone, 
as  Mrs.  Markham  came  towards  the  pair,  in  pursuit  of 
him,  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say  to  Dessie,  "  he  hung  there 
for  two  hours,"  and  in  a  light  airy  manner  he  continued 
the  description  of  an  imaginary  incident,  speaking  in  a 
manner  that  suggested  he  had  been  relating  it  to  Dessie 
before  Mrs.  Markham  joined  them. 

But  the  girl  herself  was  thinking  not  of  that,  but  of  the 
challenge  which  she  read  in  his  words,  and  looked  so 
grave  that  Mrs.  Markham  rallied  her  upon  being  scared 
by  the  Count's  story. 


CHAPTER  VII 

"    I  WANT  TO  KNOW  ALSO  WHO  YOU  ARE  '* 

"  IT'S  my  belief  you've  been  overworking  yourself, 
Dessie,"  said  Mrs.  Markham,  when  the  two  sat  chatting 
together  alone  before  going  to  bed.  "  You're  not  a  bit 
yourself  and  you  look  worried  and  almost  scared  to 
death ;  or  else  your  illness  has  left  you  much  weaker  than 
you  think." 

"  No,  there's  nothing  the  matter  with  me,"  replied  Des- 
sie, smiling.  "  Of  course  the  fever  did  pull  me  down, 
but  I'm  better.  Tom  will  have  it  that  I've  not  picked  up 
my  strength  yet;  but  then  he's  such  a  ridiculous  fidget. 
Men  are." 

"  He's  right  now,  I'm  afraid.  I  sha'n't  let  you  do  much 
work  here,  mind;  I  won't  have  it,"  and  Dora  shook  her 
head  as  though  laying  down  the  law,  while  she  smiled 
very  kindly.  Then  another  thought  occurred  to  her,  and 
she  took  one  of  the  girl's  hands  in  hers  and  pressed  it. 
"  I  suppose  there's  no  other  worry,  is  there  ?  Now,  tell 
me  the  truth — no  money  bothers?  You  know  that  one 
of  the  only  pleasures  this  money  of  mine  gives  me  is  to 
let  me  be  useful  sometimes."  The  light  in  her  eyes  was 
very  gentle,  and  her  face  very  compassionate  as  she  put 
this  question. 

"  No,  certainly  not.  Why,  only  a  couple  of  weeks  ago 
I  sold  a  serial.  I  have  actually  a  balance  in  the  bank ;  to 
say  nothing  of  quite  a  lot  of  money  that  is  owing  to  me." 

"  Then  what  is  it  ?     There's  nothing  wrong  between 

11 


78  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

Tom  and  you,  is  there?  Nothing  that  has  made  him  go 
off  in  this  way.  I'm  so  happy,  I  can't  bear  to  see  you 
like  this." 

"  Dear  old  Tom.  No."  exclaimed  Dessie,  a  blush  and 
a  smile  breaking  out  all  over  her  face  as  she  spoke, 
"  Why,  it  was  only  an  hour  or  two  before  I  got  your  wire 
that  we  were  having  the  cosiest  of  cosy  chats  over  a  cup 
of  tea  in  my  rooms,  and  half  inclined  to  be  jealous  of  you 
because  we  said  you  were  likely  to  be  married  before  us." 

"  Then  what  is  it  ?  "  asked  Dora,  after  a  pause,  and 
looking  straight  into  her  friend's  face.  "  There's  some- 
thing, Dessie.  I've  been  looking  at  you  a  dozen  times 
to-day,  and  each  time  the  worried  look  has  seemed  to 
increase.  Have  you  any  other  kind  of  trouble  ?  " 

"  Nothing  that  concerns  myself ;  and  nothing  that  I 
shan't  be  able  to  tell  you  in  a  day  or  so,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Why  not  now  ?  The  time  is  never  too  soon  for  a 
confidence." 

"  Why  not  now  ?  "  repeated  Dessie,  lapsing  then  into 
silence,  as  she  weighed  whether  she  would  or  not  tell 
Dora  what  her  real  suspicions  of  the  Count  were.  She 
longed  to  warn  her  and  put  her  on  her  guard,  but  she 
could  not  help  feeling  that  to  do  that  without  having 
the  actual  proof  would  do  little  good,  and  might  do  harm. 
If  the  evidence  was  not  sufficient  to  at  once  convince  the 
widow  that  her  lover  was  really  a  scoundrel,  she  would 
be  all  the  harder  to  convince  in  the  end.  Her  faith  must 
be  broken  at  one  blow,  or  it  would  survive  a  gradual 
assault. 

"  Why  not  now  ?  "  repeated  Mrs.  Markham  very  softly, 
pressing  her  companion's  hand. 

"  No,  not  yet,"  answered  Dessie.  "  I — I  must  have  a 
little  more  time." 

"  Is  it  anything — anything  about  Godef roi  ?    Don't  you 


"  I  Want  to  Know  also  Who  You  Are  "   79 

really  like  him  any  better  than  you  did  ?  "  She  asked  the 
question  almost  wistfully,  rather  like  a  child. 

"  I  have  not  seen  much  more  of  him.  Except  this 
morning  you  have  monopolised  him  the  greater  part  of 
the  time  he  has  been  in  the  house." 

Mrs.  Markham  looked  at  her  friend  intently  in  silence 
for  a  few  moments,  then  she  sighed. 

"  He  likes  you,  Dessie,"  she  said  at  length,  "  but  he 
seems  to  understand  that  you  dislike  him.  He  is  the 
most  generous  and  sincere  of  good  fellows,  and  he 
has  told  me  how  much  it  grieves  him  that  you,  one  of  my 
best  friends,  should  seem  to  both  distrust  and  dislike 
him.  Have  you  said  anything  to  him  about  this  ?  Don't 
try  and  part  us,  dear.  Try  rather  to  like  him.  He  is 
afraid  you  want  to  separate  us,  and  he  told  me  to-night  it 
would  break  his  heart  and  ruin  his  life  if  anything  were 
to  come  between  us.  I  couldn't  give  him  up.  Nothing 
should  ever  make  me.  Don't  try,  Dessie.  Don't  for 
heaven's  sake.  I  love  your  friendship  and  hold  it  deep  in 
my  heart.  But  don't  ever  force  me  to  choose  between 
friendship  and  love.  Promise  me  you'll  never  do  that. 
Promise  me !  " — and  she  threw  her  arms  round  Dessie 
and  kissed  her,  having  spoken  with  a  quite  impetuous 
vehemence. 

"  I  can  promise  you  faithfully,  my  dear,"  answered 
the  girl  steadily,  "  that  I  will  never  ask  you  to  choose 
between  your  friendship  for  me  and  your  love  for  the 
Count  de  Montalt." 

Dora,  in  whose  eyes  the  ready  tears  were  standing, 
lifted  her  head  and  looked  through  them  at  her  com- 
panion. Then  she  dashed  the  tears  hastily  away  as  if  they 
interfered  with  her  scrutinising  the  girl's  face. 

"  I  don't  like  that  tone,"  she  said.  "  It  sounds  hard 
and  without  heart,  not  a  bit  like  you.  What  has  passed 


8o  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

between  you  and  Godefroi  to-day?  Will  you  tell  me? 
Something  serious,  I'm  sure." 

Dessie  was  silent.  The  elder  woman  put  her  face  close 
to  the  girl's,  and  stared  eagerly  and  almost  fiercely 
into  it  with  an  expression  which  her  next  question  ex- 
plained. 

"  Have  you  ever  met  him  before  ?  Do  you  know  any- 
thing about  him — about  him  and  any  other  woman  ?  Are 
you  keeping  anything  from  me?  Dessie,  you  mustn't 
do  that,"  she  said  with  intense  earnestness.  "  Mark  me, 
I  don't  care  what  there  is  to  know  about  other  women. 
Men  are  not  saints,  and  nothing  short  of  an  actual  legal 
bar  between  us  should  ever  keep  Godefroi  and  me  apart. 
I  love  him  with  all  my  soul,  and  if  ever  man  loved  woman 
he  loves  me.  I  want  no  more  than  that,  and  the  knowl- 
edge makes  me  almost  mad  in  my  happiness.  You  can 
tell  me  anything.  Let  the  past  be  what  it  may  and  as 
black  as  it  may,  the  future  he  will  keep  white  for  love  of 
me.  Don't  try  to  part  us,  Dessie.  You  can't  do  it." 

"  He  has  been  talking  to  you  till  he  has  excited  you, 
Dora,"  said  Dessie,  still  very  quietly  and  firmly.  "  What 
I  said  last  night,  I  say  to-night.  If  he  be  what  you  think 
him,  the  marriage  will  have  no  heartier  well-wisher 
than  I." 

"  Yes,"  answered  her  companion,  impatiently  and  al- 
most angrily.  "  But  there  is  something  behind  that  '  if  ' ; 
and  when  you  say  it  I  turn  chill,  and  almost  fear  you,  for 
the  possibility  of  parting  it  suggests.  Do  you  know,  Des- 
sie, I  believe  I  could  hate  even  you  if  you  tried  to  come 
between  us." 

Then  she  got  up  hastily  out  of  her  chair  and  began  to 
walk  about  the  room;  and  Dessie  thought  it  best  not  to 
answer.  Soon  afterwards  they  both  went  upstairs  to 
bed;  the  girl  realising  more  completely  than  she  had  yet 


"I  Want  to  Know  also  Who  You  Are"  8l 

done  how  strong  and  deep  was  the  man's  grip  on  hei 
friend's  life. 

As  soon  as  she  was  alone  in  her  room  she  found  her 
nerves  were  really  unstrung.  She  was  full  of  apprehen- 
sive fancies  and  fears.  She  seemed  to  picture  the  man  as 
he  might  have  glided  about  the  room  that  evening  when 
searching  for  the  poison  and  hunting  among  her  things. 
The  picture  which  her  thoughts  had  painted  for  her  of 
that  other  grim  search  of  his  in  the  Pyrenean  homestead, 
when  his  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  purpose  of  mur- 
der, also  came  back  to  her  now ;  and  she  glanced  about 
the  room  as  if  calculating  how  it  would  adapt  itself  to 
such  a  purpose  if  he  were  to  come  there  to  kill  her. 

She  was  so  fearsome  that  she  examined  every  nook 
and  cranny  of  the  room — under  the  bed,  in  the  wardrobe, 
in  the  cupboards,  even  in  the  large  drawers,  everywhere 
where  a  man  could  possibly  or  impossibly  hide.  When 
she  had  satisfied  herself  that  no  one  was  in  the  room  but 
herself  she  locked  the  doors  and  fastened  the  window; 
and  then  fortified  all  three  by  placing  things  in  such  a 
position  that  anyone  opening  either  door  or  window 
would  be  sure  to  make  sufficient  noise  to  wake  a  sleeper. 
And  when  at  length  she  got  into  bed,  she  left  the  gas 
burning  high  enough  for  her  to  detect  the  slightest 
change  in  the  position  of  anything. 

All  this  was  absolutely  foreign  to  her  custom,  but  the 
shock  of  the  afternoon's  attempt  had  unhinged  her.  She 
could  not  sleep.  As  often  as  she  dozed  she  fell  into  some 
troubled  dream  from  which  she  would  wake  up  full  of 
nervous  dread,  and  more  than  once  in  a  clammy  sweat 
of  fear. 

Nothing  occurred  to  substantiate  the  fears  which  spoilt 
her  night's  rest ;  and  when  daylight  came  she  fell  asleep 
,with  a  feeling  of  profound  thankfulness. 


82  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

She  rose  the  next  morning  comparatively  unrefreshed, 
of  course,  and  with  a  splitting  headache;  and  though 
she  could  laugh  in  the  daylight  at  her  fears,  and  make  fun 
to  herself  of  the  elaborate  preparations  of  the  night  be- 
fore, she  knew  that  many  such  nights  would  have  serious 
consequences  to  her  health.  But  her  mind  was  soon  ab- 
sorbed by  thoughts  of  the  appointment  with  de  Montalt, 
and  of  what  she  had  to  do  before  it. 

Mrs.  Markham  was  going  to  breakfast  in  her  room, 
the  maid  told  her,  and  this  set  Dessie  free  pretty  early. 
Her  first  task  was  to  take  the  little  bottle  of  poisoned 
tea  to  have  it  analysed ;  and  she  started  as  soon  as  she  had 
finished  her  breakfast.  After  that  she  hurried  on  to  her 
rooms  to  get  what  letters  there  might  be — she  knew 
there  would  be  one  from  Tom  Cheriton — and  as  soon  as 
she  had  them  she  had  no  time  to  read  them  before  start- 
ing on  her  return  journey  to  South  Kensington  to  be  in 
time  for  her  appointment  with  the  Count. 

She  travelled  back  by  the  Underground  Railway  and 
read  her  lover's  letter  as  she  threaded  her  way  through 
the  squares  to  Gower  Street  Station,  and  finished  it  and 
the  rest  in  the  train.  Tom's  letter  was  a  long  one  for 
him — cheery  and  bright  and  loving  as  usual ;  but  holding 
out  no  hope  of  an  early  return.  His  uncle,  Samuel 
Davenant,  was  really  ill  this  time,  he  said.  Not  dan- 
gerously but  lingeringly  ill;  and  he  was  altogether  loath 
to  let  Tom  out  of  his  sight.  "  I  think  it  would  have 
been  a  jolly  good  move  if  I'd  brought  you  down  here 
with  me,"  wrote  Tom,  "  and  just  let  him  see  what  a 
natty  little  beggar  you  can  be  when  you  choose.  If  those 
little  white  fingers  of  yours  had  been  busy  making  my 
poor  old  uncle  comfortable,  instead  of  dipping  into  other 
people's  pies,  I  fancy  it  might  have  been  a  deal  better  for 
you  both,  to  say  nothing  of  me.  I  hope,  by  the  way,  that 


"I  Want  to  Know  also  Who  You  Are"  83 

you're  not  getting  your  ringers  too  deep  into  that  mess; 
but  I  suppose  I  shall  hear.  Anyway,  you'll  have  to  man- 
age without  me  for  a  time — and  perhaps  a  long  time. 
Oh !  how  I  wish  you  were  here." 

Dessie  smiled  at  the  last  sentence,  but  frowned  rather 
wearily  at  that  which  said  he  was  to  be  away  a  long  time. 
Then  she  reflected  that  by  then  he  would  have  her  letter 
explaining  that  matters  had  taken  a  turn ;  and  she  hoped 
that  in  consequence  he  might  be  able  to  get  away  and 
come  to  her. 

There  were  three  other  letters.  Two  on  business  about 
work — some  fiction  and  some  articles  that  had  to  be  writ- 
ten— while  the  third  was  in  a  handwriting  she  did  not  at 
first  recognise.  She  looked  it  over  in  that  ridiculous  way 
in  which  people  do  turn  over  letters  in  a  strange  or  for- 
gotten handwriting;  but  when  she  opened  and  read  it  a 
deep  flush  mantled  in  her  cheeks,  and  an  angry  light 
brightened  her  eyes.  It  was  short. 

"  MY  DEAREST  DESSIE, 

"  Don't  start  with  anger  when  you  see  how  I  address 
you.  You  can  never  be  anything  else  to  me  than  dearest. 
I  have  been  seeking  you  a  very  long  time  and  have  only 
just  now  found  your  address.  That  indeed  has  been  al- 
most by  an  accident.  But  I  shall  call  and  see  you  to- 
morrow morning  and  tell  you  of  the  deep,  deep  love  that 
has  been  growing  and  strengthening  in  my  heart  ever 
since  we  parted  years  ago  under  circumstances  I  am 
now  ashamed  to  recall. 

"  Ever  your  devoted  friend, 

"  EDMUND  LANDALE." 

It  was  from  the  man  of  whose  abominable  treatment 
of  her  years  before  she  had  told  Dora,  when  warning  her 
how  utterly  contemptible  and  base  some  men  could  be; 
and  as  Dessie  read  the  letter  and  thought  of  the  past  and 


84  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

of  the  man's  conduct  her  heart  was  full  of  both  bitterness 
and  foreboding.  He  knew  much,  and  was  scoundrel 
enough  to  use  his  knowledge  for  her  harm. 

The  knowledge  that  he  was  coming  again  into  her  life 
was  galling  and  disheartening ;  and  all  the  time  she  was  in 
the  train  she  sat  brooding  unhappily  over  the  possible 
complications  and  troubles  that  might  be  the  result  to 
her. 

Now  more  than  ever  she  fretted  at  her  lover's  ab- 
sence from  London,  and  regretted  she  had  not  already 
told  him  what  had  to  be  told.  She  needed  his  strength ; 
the  comforting  assurance  of  his  love  and  above  all  the 
certainty  that  what  had  to  be  told  would  make  no  differ- 
ence in  his  feelings  for  her.  Her  present  mood  made  her 
take  the  darkest  and  gloomiest  views  of  everything. 
Though  there  was  nothing  in  the  past  disgraceful  to 
herself,  yet  there  were  undoubtedly  certain  things  which 
any  man  must  hear  with  great  regret  and  which  many  a 
man  would  regard  as  serious  obstacles  to  making  her  his 
wife. 

She  felt  as  sure  of  Tom  Cheriton  as  a  woman  could  be 
of  a  generous  true  fellow  who  loved  her  with  all  his 
heart.  She  had  once  felt  sure  of  this  contemptible  scoun- 
drel, Landale;  and  Tom  also  had  to  look  to  his  position, 
and — but  at  that  point  she  broke  off  the  thread  of  this 
thought  to  scold  herself  for  harbouring  even  an  implied 
suspicion  of  her  lover's  loyalty.  But  for  all  that  she 
could  not  be  quite  easy. 

If  only  he  had  been  in  town  that  morning  she  would 
have  gone  to  him  there  and  then  and  told  him  everything 
without  reserve. 

Out  of  this  came  an  impulse.  She  would  send  off  the 
telegram  she  had  thought  of  the  previous  night  in  her 
moment  of  panic;  and  as  soon  as  she  left  the  South 


85 

Kensington  Station  she  did  so,  urging  him  to  run  up  to 
her  at  once,  if  only  for  an  hour  or  so,  as  something  most 
serious  had  occurred. 

The  sense  that  that  message  would  bring  him  to  her 
help  within  a  few  hours  calmed  her  agitation  somewhat; 
but  Sir  Edmund  Landale's  letter  was  altogether  the  worst 
possible  preparation  which  she  could  have  had  for  the 
interview  with  the  Count  de  Montalt,  and  she  was  very 
nervous  and  unstrung  as  she  walked  along  the  Cromwell 
Road,  and  on  nearing  the  short  street  leading  to  the 
square  caught  sight  of  his  tall  powerful  figure  waiting 
for  her. 

"  You  are  not  looking  at  all  well,  Miss  Merrion,"  was 
his  greeting,  as  he  looked  keenly  into  her  face — he  did  not 
now  attempt  to  shake  hands.  "  You  are  not  fitted  for 
work  of  this  kind." 

"  I  have  not  come  to  discuss  my  looks,  but  to  hear  what 
you  wish  to  say  to  me,"  said  Dessie,  coldly. 

"  I  admire  your  courage ;  but  at  the  same  time  the  fact 
that  you  have  thought  it  wise  to  come  shows  me  you  can 
temper  it  with  a  shrewd  discretion." 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  bandy  words  or  terms  with  you. 
The  reason  for  our  meeting  is  this.  I  told  you  yesterday 
I  should  tell  Mrs.  Markham  what  I  knew  about  you  if 
you  went  again  to  the  house  without  giving  me  proofs 
that  you  are  not  the  man  I  say.  You  did  go  again  to  the 
house,  and  said  that  you  had  the  proofs  with  you.  In- 
stead of  producing  them,  you  made  a  dare-devil  attempt 
to  poison  me.  I  have  sent  the  poisoned  tea  to  be  analysed, 
so  that  there  may  be  no  mistake  on  that  score.  You  then 
made  a  desperate  endeavour  to  get  possession  of  the 
poison  by  stealing  up  like  a  thief  into  my  room,  and  ran- 
sacking every  nook  and  cranny.  You  failed;  but  even 
then,  unabashed,  you  had  the  hardihood  to  tell  me  you 


86  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

knew  I  had  discovered  your  actions,  but  that  you  would 
meet  me  this  morning  and  give  me  the  proofs  you  had 
before  said  you  could  produce — proofs  that  you  are  the 
Count  de  Montalt,  and  not  Rolande  Lespard,  the  mur- 
derer of  old  Paul  Duvivier." 

"  You  have  an  excellent  faculty  of  direct  speech,  Miss 
Merrion,"  said  the  man,  with  a  sneer.  "  A  trick  of  jour- 
nalism, I  suppose." 

"  Please  be  good  enough  to  keep  to  the  unpleasant  sub- 
ject that  has  made  this  meeting  necessary,"  interrupted 
Dessie,  curtly. 

"  That  is  just  the  point  which  you  have  missed.  But 
to  do  you  justice,  I  am  not  sure  that  you  quite  know  what 
that  is.  If  you  remember,  I  promised  you  something 
more  than  the  proofs  you  wanted."  He  stopped,  and 
looked  at  her  with  an  indescribably  evil  smile.  "  Ugh  ? 
You  remember  now  ?  " 

The  girl  waved  her  hand  in  deprecation. 

"  No,  it  is  not  unimportant,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  the 
gesture.  "  It  is  most  important.  It  means  no  less  than 
that  this  interview  may  end  in  your  arrest,  Miss  Merrion. 
Your  arrest  on  a  most  serious  charge.  You  want  to  know 
who  I  am,  and  will  not  believe  that  I  am  what  I  say.  I 
want  also  to  know  who  you  are,  and  why  you  stole 
jewels  worth  thousands  of  pounds  five  years  ago,  and 
have  made  no  effort  to  restore  them.  Stole  them  from  a 
waiting-room  at  the  Birmingham  station  on  the  I4th 
of  March,  1887." 

For  all  his  strange  career  and  experiences,  Dessie  was 
a  far  better  actor  than  he;  and  though  now  taken  in- 
finitely by  surprise,  she  held  her  feelings  splendidly  in 
check,  and  answered  in  a  deliberate  tone  and  calculating 
manner,  as  though  recalling  facts  from  her  memory. 

"  The  fourteenth  of  March — the  fourteenth  of  March. 


"I  Want  to  Know  also  Who  You  Are"   87 

I  am  not  surprised  you  have  that  date  well  in  your 
thoughts.  That  was  the  day  when  you  were  arrested 
for  the  murder  of  Paul  Duvivier,  on  the  very  spot  you 
mention — the  platform  of  Birmingham  station." 

By  the  time  she  had  finished  her  sentence,  she  had 
recovered  her  composure.  The  danger  of  the  crisis 
quickened  her  wits,  and  she  looked  at  him  coldly  and 
sternly,  as  she  added: 

"  Why  do  you  tell  me  this  ?  I  see  in  it  no  proof  that 
you  are  not  old  Duvivier's  murderer.  On  the  contrary, 
it  only  shows  that  I  am  right  about  you." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN   OMINOUS   MEETING 

NEVER  in  all  her  life  had  Dessie  Merrion  had  greater 
need  of  all  her  pluck  and  shrewdness  than  at  the  moment 
when  she  stood  facing  the  Count  de  Montalt,  forcing 
down  her  fears  and  anxieties,  and  thinking  eagerly  what 
course  she  should  take  and  whether  she  should  admit  or 
deny  her  possession  of  the  jewels. 

If  she  denied  it,  then  her  knowledge  of  his  identity  had 
no  substantial  foundation;  if  she  admitted  it,  he  would 
have  possibly  as  great  a  power  over  her  as  she  had  over 
him.  She  was  altogether  ignorant  as  to  what  the  effect 
to  her  might  be  of  having  kept  the  rubies.  It  was  certain 
that  she  had  not  stolen  them.  She  believed  the  two  let- 
ters she  had  received  from  the  woman  whose  bag  she  had 
taken  in  mistake  would  clear  her  of  that  charge  cer- 
tainly ;  but  how  far  she  was  justified  in  retaining  posses- 
sion of  them,  and  whether  she  could  be  punished  for  hav- 
ing done  so,  she  did  not  know. 

But  she  had  now  to  choose  her  course  in  ignorance  of 
the  consequences ;  and  yet  having  once  taken  it  she  might 
have  to  stick  to  it  through  thick  and  thin ;  and  the  diffi- 
culty of  choice  puzzled,  and  indeed  for  the  moment 
baffled  and  bewildered  her. 

All  these  considerations  flashed  through  her  thoughts 
as  she  stood  facing  her  antagonist  and  waiting  for  him 
to  answer;  while  she  was  conscious  that  the  keen  dark 
eyes  were  searching  her  face  to  guess  her  thoughts. 

88 


An  Ominous  Meeting  89 

"  This  promises  to  be  an  exceptionally  interesting  con- 
versation," he  said,  after  a  minute's  pause.  "  Exception- 
ally interesting.  Shall  we  walk  on?  Standing  looking 
at  one  another  in  this  way  is  just  a  little  melodramatic, 
don't  you  think?" 

They  moved  on  at  this  and  after  another  short  pause 
he  added — 

"  Now  you'll  understand  what  I  meant  last  night  when 
I  said  that  you  and  I  had  better  understand  one  another. 
I  have  a  considerable  admiration  for  many  of  your  quali- 
ties, Miss  Merrion — though  of  course  my  knowledge  of 
your  connection  with  this  jewel  robbery  must  influence 
me  when  I  come  to  think  of  you  as  a  friend  of  my  future 
wife.  But  we  can  talk  of  that  another  time.  That  is 
of  the  future.  I  want  to  speak  of  the  present.  What  are 
you  going  to  do  ?  Are  you  going  to  force  me  to  take  the 
unpleasant  step  of  revealing  my  knowledge  to  Mrs. 
Markham,  and  leaving  you  to  make  such  explanation 
as  you  please  ?  Or  shall  we  let  things  go  on  as  they  were, 
before  I  made  this  discovery?  I  am  not  so  harsh  and 
peremptory  as  you  were  yesterday,  you  see.  Willing 
rather  to  screen  you  if  possible." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  stoop  to  ask  you  what  you  mean 
when  you  insult  me  in  this  way  about  some  discovery 
that  you  pretend  to  have  made  about  me.  I  have  come  to 
meet  you  to  get  the  proofs  of  your  identity — something 
to  satisfy  me  you  are  not  Rolande  Lespard ;  and  in  place 
of  these  you  hatch  up  this  story." 

"  Then  I  shall  be  under  the  painful  necessity  of  in- 
forming either  Mrs.  Markham  or  the  police,  or  both,  that 
you  are  a  young  lady  of  very  questionable  antecedents, 
one  of  whose  exploits  undoubtedly  was  to  be  concerned 
in  the  robbery  of  verv  valuable  jewels  in  March,  five 
years  ago." 


90  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

Dessie  smiled  at  this  as  she  answered, 

"  I  am  not  much  disposed  to  think  that  you  will  go 
any  nearer  to  a  policeman  than  you  are  obliged.  But 
please  yourself.  I  have  made  up  my  mind  in  this  matter. 
I  have  wired  this  morning  to  ask  Mr.  Cheriton  to  come 
up  to  London  at  once,  and  I  shall  then  lay  the  whole  facts 
before  him.  Till  then  I  shall  do  nothing.  After  then, 
you  can  do  what  you  please.  I  have  no  more  to  say,  and 
as  you  have  not  done  what  you  said  should  be  done  at 
this  interview,  I  prefer  not  to  prolong  it."  With  that 
she  turned  away  abruptly,  and  left  him,  without  giving 
him  time  to  reply. 

Her  one  thought,  desire  and  policy  now  was  to  see 
Tom,  and  tell  him  everything. 

The  Count  stood  and  stared  after  her  in  anger  and 
astonishment  at  her  sudden  decision ;  and  at  first  he  made 
a  step  or  two  as  if  to  follow  her.  But  he  checked  him- 
self, and  turned  away,  thinking  rapidly. 

"  If  the  two  once  get  together  before  I  have  com- 
pleted such  a  case  as  I  can  make  up  against  her,  I  shall 
be  beaten,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "  It's  all  gone  splen- 
didly up  to  now — up  to  the  time  of  this  sharp-eyed,  keen- 
witted, plucky  little  beggar  coming  in  to  spoil  everything. 
I'll  do  as  I  thought — go  to  her  rooms,  and  ransack  the 
place — see  what  I  can  find."  With  that  he  hailed  a  han- 
som, and  told  the  man  to  drive  fast  to  the  address  of 
Dessie  Merrion's  rooms. 

There,  a  little  impudence,  a  lie  or  two,  and  a  tip  im- 
posed upon  the  woman  housekeeper,  so  that  he  gained 
admission  to  the  girl's  three  rooms.  He  said  that  she 
was  coming  back  directly  to  meet  him,  and  had  given 
him  the  key  of  the  rooms.  He  produced  a  card  of  hers, 
on  which  he  had  pencilled,  in  writing  meant  to  resemble 


An  Ominous  Meeting  91 

hers,  an  instruction  to  let  the  bearer  wait  in  the  rooms. 
When  the  key  he  produced  would  not  fit  the  lock,  he  made 
an  excuse  to  the  woman  that  Dessie  had  obviously  given 
him  the  wrong  one;  whereupon,  she  opened  the  door  for 
him. 

"  Miss  Merrion  didn't  tell  me  as  you  was  coming,  sir, 
not  when  she  was  here  for  her  letters  jes'  now ;  leastways 
1  hour  or  so  ago.  But  I  suppose  it's  all  right." 

"  My  good  woman,  do  I  look  as  if  it  could  be  all 
wrong  ? "  asked  de  Montalt,  and  his  handsome  looks, 
fashionably  cut  clothes,  and  pleasant  smile  quite  disarmed 
her.  "  If  you'd  feel  more  comfortable  to  see  me  sitting 
on  the  stairs,  and  whistling,  instead  of  in  this  very  com- 
fortable armchair,  I've  no  objection.  I'll  do  anything  to 
oblige  so  manifestly  kind  and  pleasant  a  lady  as  your- 
self. But  personally,  I  prefer  the  chair ; "  and  he  smiled 
again,  in  a  way  that  convinced  the  woman  there  could  be 
no  guile  behind  it.  Then,  as  she  was  leaving  the  room, 
he  added,  to  give  the  matter  an  added  touch  of  genuine- 
ness, "  By  the  way,  if  a  gentleman  calls  before  Miss  Mer- 
rion should  get  here — it's  a  rather  important  business 
matter  that  we're  to  meet  about — you'd  better  let  him 
come  up  at  once." 

"  Very  well,  sir,  said  the  woman,  the  smile  on  the 
man's  face  broadening  as  the  door  closed  behind  her. 

He  sat  still,  listening  to  her  footsteps  go  down  the 
staircase,  and  then  opening  the  door  very  quietly,  he  put 
his  head  out,  and  listened  more  intently  still.  He  heard 
her  moving  about  in  the  lower  part  of  the  house;  and 
then  he  closed  the  door  again,  shot  the  bolt  on  the  inside, 
and  set  vigorously  to  work  on  the  task  which  he  had  come 
to  accomplish. 

Less  than  half  an  hour's  rapid  but  most  systematic 


92  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

search  convinced  him  that  he  had  better  concentrate  his 
attention  on  the  safe,  and  that  there  was  little  or  nothing 
of  any  consequence  to  be  found  outside  it. 

One  sharp  glance  at  the  safe  told  him  that  it  would  not 
give  him  much  trouble.  It  was  a  cheap,  well-painted 
thing  got  up  to  sell  and  called  burglar-proof.  But  the 
plates  were  little  thicker  than  sheet  tin,  while  the  vulner- 
able spots  to  those  who  know  where  to  look  for  them  were 
many.  And  the  Count  de  Montalt  knew  well  enough. 

"  I  could  open  this  thing  with  an  oyster  knife,  even 
if  I  couldn't  pick  the  lock  with  a  bent  nail,"  he  said  to 
himself  with  a  contemptuous  laugh  when  he  had  exam- 
ined it  closely;  and  after  some  half  hour's  ingenious 
work  he  succeeded  in  picking  the  lock. 

He  commenced  instantly  to  overhaul  its  contents;  and 
taking  them  out  he  went  through  them  very  carefully. 
What  he  found  interested  him  deeply  and  more  than  once 
as  he  read  some  of  the  papers  and  glanced  at  the  nature 
of  others,  he  smiled  in  self-congratulation  at  his  dis- 
coveries. 

He  was  completely  absorbed  in  the  work,  and  he  thus 
started  violently  when  some  one  rapped  smartly  at  the 
door,  tried  the  handle,  and  then,  finding  it  locked, 
knocked  again. 

"  Can  this  be  the  girl ;  or  —  I  hope  not  —  that  bluster- 
ing lover  of  hers,  Cheriton  ?  "  he  said  to  himself  in  alarm. 
"  If  it  is  there'll  be  a  scrimmage  in  all  probability." 

While  he  was  thinking  he  was  also  acting  quickly.  He 
bundled  all  the  unimportant  papers  back  into  the  safe, 
and  closed  the  door;  thrust  a  few  into  the  pocket  of  his 
coat,  which  he  put  on  again  quickly,  removed  as  many 
traces  of  his  work  as  possible,  and  then  sat  down  in  the 
arm  chair,  and  waited  for  the  knock  to  be  repeated. 
When  it  came  again,  he  yawned  very  loudly,  got  up 


He  commenced  instantly  to  overhaul  its  contents. 


0*. 


An  Ominous  Meeting  93 

and  opened  the  door,  with  the  expression  on  his  face  as 
if  he  had  just  awoke,  while  his  hand  concealed  a 
smothered  yawn. 

"  Beg  your  pardon.  Hope  you  haven't  been  knocking 
long.  But  the  truth  was  I  got  tired  waiting  and  dropped 
off  into  a  snooze."  As  he  spoke  he  was  eyeing  very 
keenly  the  new  comer,  a  middle-sized,  dapper-looking, 
well-groomed  man,  who  seemed  considerably  astonished 
at  his  reception. 

"  Wonder  who  the  devil  you  are,"  was  de  Montalt's 
inward  comment.  "  Won't  you  come  in  ?  "  he  asked, 
seeing  the  man  hesitate. 

"  Are  not  these  Miss  Merrion's  rooms  ?  "  asked  the 
visitor. 

"  Not  the  lover,  evidently,"  thought  the  Count  much 
relieved,  as  he  replied  aloud,  "  Of  course  they  are.  She'll 
be  here  in  a  minute  or  two.  Come  in.  She  should  be 
here  now,  only  you  know  what  women's  punctuality  is. 
I  expect  you're  the  man  she  said  was  coming,"  and  he 
held  out  his  hand  for  the  card  which  he  saw  in  the 
other's  hand.  "  Oh !  Landale — Sir  Edmund  Landale — 
yes,  of  course.  Well,  I  don't  know  whether  that  was  the 
name  she  said.  Oh!  yes,  Landale,  of  course,"  as  some 
references  in  the  papers  he  had  just  been  reading  flashed 
across  his  thoughts. 

"  I  wrote  and  said  I  should  be  here  this  morning." 

"  The  devil  you  did,"  thought  his  hearer ;  "  then  I 
wonder  if  she's  coming  back  to  meet  you."  But  aloud  he 
replied — "  Yes,  I  know.  Well,  I  am  absolutely  in  her 
confidence  now,  and  whatever  you  have  to  say  may  as 
well  be  said  through  me,  Sir  Edmund." 

The  baronet  looked  infinitely  surprised  at  this,  and  his 
feeling  found  expression  in  a  long  stare  which  the  other 
man  met  with  a  bland  and  courteous  expression. 


94  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"Do  you  mean  that  Miss  Merrion  told  you  the  pur- 
port of  my  letter,  Mr. — Mr. — I  didn't  catch  your  name?  " 

"  No.  I  haven't  mentioned  it.  De  Montalt,  my  name 
is — the  Count  de  Montalt.  I  daresay  you  know  it." 

"  No,  I  never  heard  it.  But  may  I  ask  what  relation 
you  stand  in  toward  Miss  Merrion  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  am  afraid  that  that  would  be  a  little  difficult 
to  explain,"  was  the  very  truthful  answer,  continued 
untruthfully.  "  You  can  judge  pretty  well  that  as  I  am 
here  in  her  rooms  alone  waiting  for  her  we're  not  stran- 
gers. I  assure  you  you  can  speak  with  absolute  con- 
fidence." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  know  the  object  of  my  visit?  " 

"  No,  I  can't  say  that,  or  I  could  give  you  an  answer 
without  waiting  for  you  to  say  a  word.  But,  of  course, 
I  know  of  your  former  friendship  for  her." 

"  You  mean  that  I  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  her?  " 

"  What  else  should  I  mean  ?  "  answered  De  Montalt, 
with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  But  he  had  only  made  a 
shot  on  the  strength  of  an  entry  or  two  in  an  old  diary 
he  had  seen. 

"  And  you  know  why  it  was  broken  off  ?  "  said  the 
other  eagerly. 

"  I  have  heard,  but  for  the  moment  I  forget.  It  left 
you  very  low  down  in  her  esteem,  as  you  can  imagine." 
This  was  another  shot  founded  on  a  reference  to  the 
baronet  which  he  had  discovered. 

"  Do  you  mean  she  is  still  bitter  ?  " 

"  What  else  would  she  be  ?  You  know  her,"  was  the 
answer,  spoken  with  a  very  expressive  and  significant 
laugh. 

"  You  are  really  her  intimate  friend,  and  I  can  speak 
openly  to  you  ?  "  asked  Landale,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"You  must  please  yourself  about  that.     I  seek  no 


An  Ominous  Meeting  95 

man's  confidence  against  his  will.  You  and  I  are  stran- 
gers personally;  I  don't  know  what  your  motive  may  be. 
You  may  have  a  motive  that  in  my  opinion  is  altogether 
bad.  I  think  I'd  rather  not  hear  anything.  Of  course  I 
know  you  by  name,  and  anyone  might  well  be  anxious 
to  give  you  a  lift  in  any  particular.  I  know  Miss  Mer- 
rion's  affairs  pretty  intimately,  as  I  told  you ;  but  what 
she  would  wish  me  to  tell  you  is  another  matter." 

It  was  a  cleverly  worded  speech,  intended  to  make  the 
other  man  eager  to  speak;  and  it  succeeded. 

"  Well,  to  tell  you  the  truth,"  said  the  baronet,  after  a 
few  moments'  reflection,  as  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair, 
"  there  are  several  questions  I'd  much  rather  put  to  you 
than  to  her." 

"  If  I  can  help  you,  fire  away.  Only  don't  tell  me  any- 
thing you  feel  the  least  compunction  about,  and  mind," 
he  added,  interrupting  the  baronet  as  he  was  about  to 
speak,  "  I  don't  bind  myself  to  answer  a  single  question." 

"  I  want  to  know  whether  Miss  Merrion  has  any — 
love  affair  ?  "  He  coloured  slightly  under  the  Count's 
sharp  gaze. 

"  I  can't  answer  that  until  I  know  your  motive,"  said 
the  latter,  as  if  suspiciously. 

"  My  motive's  plain  enough,"  returned  the  baronet, 
speaking  more  freely  now  that  the  ice  was  broken.  "  I 
want  to  renew  the  old  engagement." 

"  Phew  I "  whistled  the  other.  "  The  deuce  you  do. 
Then  why  on  earth  did  you  ever  break  it  off  ?  " 

"  Because  I  was  a  fool  for  one  thing,  and  because  I 
thought  the  taint  of  old  Marlow's  crime  would  stick  to 
his  daughter." 

"What's  that?"  exclaimed  the  Count,  jumping  to  his 
feet  in  profound  astonishment  and  staring  open-eyed  at 
the  speaker.  Then  recovering-  himself  with  a  supreme 


96  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

effort,  he  let  out  a  tremendous  oath,  and  exclaimed,  as 
if  relieving  his  infinite  indignation,  "  Do  you  mean  you 
were  such  a  confounded  cad  as  that?  I  beg  your  pardon. 
Of  course  it's  no  affair  of  mine.  Excuse  my  heat.  But 
for  the  moment  I  lost  self-control."  It  was  a  cleverly 
acted  scene  to  hide  from  the  other  man  the  almost  uncon- 
trollable excitement  which  his  words  had  caused. 

"  You  can  answer  my  questions  or  not,  as  you  please, 
sir,"  exclaimed  Sir  Edmund  Landale,  angrily,  "  but  in 
either  case  I  beg  you  will  spare  me  the  unpleasantness  of 
your  personal  comment." 

"  Certainly  I  will,"  returned  the  Count.  He  had 
regained  self-control  now  and  spoke  quite  in  his  usual 
manner.  "  I  apologise.  I  am  one  of  the  most  excitable 
fools  on  earth,  and  I  constantly  blurt  out  what  a  mo- 
ment's reflection  shows  me  is  a  fool's  verdict.  I  may  say 
at  once,  however,  that  in  speaking  to  Miss  Merrion  on 
this  subject  I  have  more  than  once  pointed  out  to  her 
that  you  had  practically  no  other  course  open  to  you." 

"  I  don't  need  your  advocacy  any  more  than  your  criti- 
cism, thank  you.  I  ought  not  to  have  spoken  at  all, 
probably." 

"  That  is  for  yourself  to  consider,"  returned  de  Mon- 
talt,  with  quiet  firmness;  and  he  added  with  much  ap- 
parent candour,  "  I  will  answer  you  very  fully  now, 
I  am  afraid  you  have  no  chance  of  renewing  the  old  en- 
gagement, in  the  ordinary  way.  Miss  Merrion  is  en- 
gaged to  be  married  to  a  Mr.  Tom  Cheriton,  a  barrister, 
and  they  are  hoping  to  be  married  soon.  But  I  do  not 
like  him,  and  if  I  could  do  something  to  hinder  the  match 
I  would,  with  all  my  heart.  I  don't  know  whether  you — " 
he  paused,  leaving  the  sentence  unfinished,  save  for  a 
look. 

A  child  could  have  seen  that  the  blow  struck  hard. 


An  Ominous  Meeting  97 

"Are  you — ?"  began  Sir  Edmund,  hesitating. 

"  I  am  engaged  to  marry  Miss  Merrion's  best  friend, 
Mrs.  Markham,  of  Edgcumbe  Square,  where  Miss  Mer- 
rion  is  now  stopping.  -If  I  can  help  you  in  any  way,  I 
will,  and  I  think  I  can;  but — "  he  stopped,  and  looked 
very  grave. 

"But  what?" 

"  Is  this  much  to  you?  " 

"  I  have  been  looking  for  Dessie  Merrion  for  over  a 
year  simply  to  get  her  to  marry  me." 

"  Well  the  way  I  have  in  my  thoughts  is  not  a  pleasant 
way,  and  you  might  shy  at  it.  But  I  don't  think  this  fel- 
low Cheriton  means  well  by  her,  and  I  would  do  anything 
to  stop  the  match." 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  Landale. 

"  Well,  it's  pretty  much  on  the  lines  of  what  you  did 
before,  but  a  bit  different,  of  course.  Naturally  nothing 
but  a  very  strong  desire  to  promote  her  real  good  would 
justify  a  step  of  the  kind.  But  I'm  bound  to  say  that  I'm 
one  of  those  men  who  look  to  the  end  to  be  achieved.  -I 
want  to  save  Miss  Merrion  from  a  man  whom  I  know  to 
be  unworthy  of  her,  and  in  such  a  case  I  don't  stick  at 
the  means.  But  you  may  be  different ;  and,  of  course,  I 
wouldn't  for  the  world  drag  you  in  against  your  will." 

The  baronet  was  silent,  and  sat  chewing  the  ends  of  his 
moustache,  which  he  thrust  between  his  lips  with  white 
taper  fingers  that  trembled. 

"  You  say  they  mean  to  be  married  soon  ?  "  he  asked, 
weakly,  trifling  with  the  temptation. 

"  Yes,  of  course,  that's  just  the  deuce  of  it.  If  there 
was  plenty  of  time,  one  might  open  her  eyes  in  some 
other  way  to  the  man's  real  character.  But  as  it  is,  before 
one  can  do  anything,  she'll  be  his  wife." 

The  other  man  winced  at  this  word. 


98  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  Of  course,  you  understand  I  shouldn't  let  your  hand 
really  appear  in  it  at  all,  at  first,"  continued  de  Montalt. 
"  I  shouldn't  think  that  good  tactics.  She'd  be  suspicion* 
possibly,  and  everything  might  be  spoilt." 

The  bait  was  taken,  with  that  addition. 

"  You  haven't  told  me  yet  what  it  is  you  propose." 

"It's  simply  a  judicious  use  of  that  past  of  hers.  I 
can  use  the  knowledge  in  such  a  way  as  to  put  an  end 
to  this;  but,  of  course,  to  do  this  one  must  have  all  the 
details  pat,  and  some  of  them  have  slipped  from  my 
memory,  while  others  -I  don't  know.  You  would  not  ap- 
pear until  later,  and  then  I  promise  you  I  can  so  use  the 
facts  that  she  will  be  glad  to  welcome  you  as  a  friend, 
knowing  all  and  ready  to  take  her  as  she  really  is.  She 
loved  you  dearly  in  the  past,  and  her  love  would  live 
again,  if  only  this  Cheriton  entanglement  were  out  of  the 
way." 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do,  then  ?  "  said  the  baronet, 
quickly. 

"  Nothing  more  than  just  fill  in  the  gaps,  and  cross  the 
t's,  and  dot  the  i's  of  the  knowledge  I  already  have  of  that 
— that  Marlow  business.  Then  you  can  leave  me  to  do 
the  rest,  and  stand  aside  till  I  give  you  the  cue.  The 
girl  will  thank  us  all  her  life  long  when  once  her  first 
temper's  over." 

Then  the  Count  drew  his  chair  closer  to  the  other  man, 
and  listened  to  what  he  had  thus  schemed  so  daringly  and 
cleverly  to  learn.  And  as  he  listened  he  saw,  in  his 
thoughts,  the  web  that  he  could  weave  mesh  by  mesh, 
round  the  girl  who  had  tried  to  thwart  him. 


CHAPTER  IX 

"l   KNOW   YOUR   WHOLE  STORY " 

As  soon  as  the  story  was  finished,  and  it  did  not  take 
long  in  the  telling,  the  Count  sent  Sir  Edmund  Landale 
away  with  a  promise  to  communicate  with  him  the  mo- 
ment there  was  anything  to  tell;  and  as  the  latter  went 
down  the  stairway,  his  companion  looked  after  him  with 
a  leer  on  his  face  that  was  a  mixture  of  triumph  for  the 
success  that  he  had  gained,  and  contempt  for  the  man 
whom  he  had  outwitted  in  the  effort. 

Then  he  returned  to  the  room,  and  took  great  pains 
to  replace  everything  in  the  position  in  which  he  had 
found  it,  so  far  as  his  memory  served  him.  The  safe 
alone  baffled  him,  as  he  could  not  re-lock  it. 

He  had  now  been  so  long  in  the  rooms  that  he  was 
convinced  there  was  no  fear  of  Dessie's  returning  to  dis- 
turb him;  and  he,  therefore,  drew  his  chair  to  the  table 
to  make  a  few  rapid  notes  of  the  conversation  with  the 
baronet.  When  completed,  he  compared  them  with  the 
papers  he  had  taken  from  the  safe,  and  sat  thinking  out 
the  best  plan  of  procedure. 

He  was  in  high  spirits.  The  luck  was  with  him  indeed, 
ind  as  an  old  gambler  his  maxim  was  to  back  it  for  all  he 
was  worth.  This  was  just  such  a  position  as  seemed  to 
justify  him  piling  on  every  stake  he  could  command. 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  can  lose,"  he  thought,  as  he  leant 
back  in  his  chair.  "  If  I  know  anything  of  human  na- 
ture, that  girl's  as  staunch  and  true  as  a  girl  can  be ;  and 

99 


I  oo  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

she'll  go  through  fire  and  water  rather  than  betray  any- 
one. Gad,  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  some  people  are  so 
mfernally  good  that  a  pledge  once  given  they'll  keep  it 
sx  any  sacrifice.  But  now,  there's  one  thing  absolutely 
critical,  and  only  one  thing — she  mustn't  see  Cheriton  till 
my  cards  are  tabled.  Then  perhaps  she  won't  want  to. 
I  wish  I  knew  what  she'd  wired  him  this  morning.  Won- 
der if  I  dare  wire  him.  No,  by  heaven,  I  have  it " — and 
he  dashed  his  fist  violently  down  on  the  table — "  I'll  get 
away  to  South  Kensington,  and  find  out  whether  he's 
coming  up,  and  if  he  is,  I'll  slip  out  and  send  a  bogus 
telegram  to  her  in  a  name  that'll  make  her  jump  out  of 
her  skin,  and  then  deal  with  the  man.  By  Jove,  the 
game's  getting  worth  playing  for  itself,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  stakes — and  they're  heavy  enough  to  boot." 

He  smiled  more  than  once  as  he  thought  of  his  latest 
device,  and  made  ready  to  go. 

"  By  the  way,  just  as  well  not  to  leave  too  broad  a  trail 
behind  me  here,  in  the  shape  of  evidence.  I'll  get  back 
that  card  I  gave  the  old  frump  of  a  housekeeper."  For 
this  purpose  he  went  down  into  the  housekeeper's  room 
and  engaged  her  in  conversation,  saying  he  should  wait 
no  longer,  while  he  glanced  about  him  for  the  card.  As 
soon  as  he  saw  where  it  was  he  went  and  stood  near  it, 
and  after  distracting  the  woman's  attention  from  his 
actions,  he  put  it  and  the  baronet's  card  that  lay  with  it 
quietly  into  his  pocket.  Then,  giving  the  woman  a 
couple  of  shillings,  he  left. 

"Lucky  I  found  this  in  my  search  in  her  ladyship's 
room  last  night,"  he  muttered,  as  he  took  out  the  card, 
tore  it  into  a  hundred  pieces  and  tossed  them  into  the 
gutter.  "  It's  always  well  to  have  an  eye  for  the  possible 
value  of  little  things." 

He  was  in  the  act  of  calling  a  cab  when  he  remem- 


"I  Know  Your  Whole  Story"       101 

bered  that  he  had  not  lunched;  and  as  he  made  a  rule 
never  to  neglect  any  matter  of  personal  comfort,  he 
turned  and  set  out  in  search  of  a  restaurant  that  was 
good  enough  to  accord  with  his  taste. 

He  lunched  well,  and  had  a  glass  or  two  of  good  wine, 
tried  one  of  the  best  cigars  which  the  place  could  offer 
him,  abused  the  waiter  for  not  giving  him  a  better,  and 
then,  in  a  thoroughly  comfortable  frame  of  mind  he  went 
out,  hailed  a  cab  and  was  driven  off  to  Edgcumbe  Square. 

His  main  anxiety  now  was  whether  Cheriton — "  the 
lover,"  as  he  called  him  somewhat  contemptuously  in 
thought — would  have  come  up  in  response  to  Dessie's 
telegram.  "  If  he  has,  there  will  be  a  kettle  of  fish,"  he 
mused,  "  and  my  line  will  not  be  quite  so  clear  as  it  might 
be.  I  don't  think  I  have  left  it  too  late  " — a  glance  at  a 
clock  as  he  passed  showed  him  the  time  to  be  nearly  three 
o'clock — "  and  after  all,  with  the  knowledge  I  have  now, 
I  need  not  be  much  troubled  if  she  has  already  told  him. 
The  story  will  take  some  time  in  the  telling,  too.  She's  a 
plucky  little  beggar,  no  doubt;  but  she'll  need  all  her 
nerve  to  pull  her  through  that  business.  And  after  it's 
over,  I  don't  see  what  the  man's  going  to  do — except 
hold  his  tongue  and  buy  me  over.  Still,  I'd  rather  deal 
with  the  girl  than  the  man.  Women  lose  their  heads, 
and  make  mistakes  so  much  more  frequently." 

From  this  his  thoughts  travelled  to  the  woman  he  was 
pledged  to  marry.  "  Poor  Dora,  what  a  soft-headed, 
tender-hearted,  mass  of  consummate  vanity  she  is!  I 
wonder  how  much  money  she  has  got.  It's  worth  a  lot 
to  marry  her  and  settle  down — like  grits  in  a  wine  glass. 
Sink  everything.  Lord,  what  would  life  be  like,  tied  to  a 
golden  doll  like  that — if  one  meant  to  live  it  convention- 
ally. She  loves  me ;  that's  one  thing.  That's  my  strong 
card  there ;  and  I  believe  her  love — or  at  least  her  vanity, 


102  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

which  makes  her  think  I  live  but  for  her  silly  self — would 
make  her  stick  to  me  through  thick  and  thin ;  ay,  through 
everything,  or  at  least  almost  everything." 

He  smiled  and  showed  his  white  even  teeth,  and  then 
admired  himself  in  the  little  looking-glass  in  the  cab,  and 
glancing  out,  ogled  a  pretty  girl  who  was  passing.  Then 
he  harked  back  in  thought  to  his  plans,  and  in  this  broken, 
desultory  fashion  continued  to  muse. 

He  was  a  man  of  implacable  purpose ;  but  he  preferred 
to  seek  it  by  the  leaps  and  bounds  which  impulse 
prompted  rather  than  by  the  steady,  deliberate  methods 
of  close  calculation.  He  was  capable  of  perpetrating  any 
crime,  however  desperate  and  daring,  almost  on  the  spur 
of  the  moment ;  and  he  would  carry  through  any  scheme 
once  conceived,  however  venturesome  and  hazardous. 
Thus  he  would  often  succeed  by  sheer  dash  and  bravado, 
where  another  man  of  more  set  purpose  and  steady  deter- 
mination might  fail. 

He  was  indeed  a  more  dangerous  man  to  deal  with  than 
one  who  laid  his  plans  with  consistent  forethought.  It 
was  impossible  to  estimate  what  step  he  would  take.  He 
had  an  infinite  quickness  in  seeing  and  seizing  an  oppor- 
tunity, an  equal  capacity  in  turning  it  to  account,  and  a 
reckless  readiness  in  the  adoption  of  his  means.  But  he 
often  wearied  of  his  objects  before  he  had  gained  them. 

The  whole  of  this  marriage  scheme  was  the  outcome  of 
a  merely  chance  encounter.  He  had  seen  George  Vezey 
and  his  friend  in  the  middle  of  a  row  with  Belgian  sailors, 
and  perceiving  that  if  he  rescued  them  he  could  probably 
turn  the  connection  to  personal  advantage,  he  had  dashed 
in  and  saved  them  without  a  thought  of  the  danger  to 
himself.  When  he  had  done  it  he  began  to  consider  how 
he  could  best  make  them  pay  the  price  of  the  service  he 
had  rendered.  He  followed  them  to  Ostend,  saw  Mrs. 


"I  Know  Your  Whole  Story"       103 

Markham,  read  her  at  a  glance,  and  forthwith  resolved  to 
marry  her  for  the  sake  of  her  money.  He  succeeded  al- 
most instantly ;  and  all  was  going  well  when  Dessie  Mer- 
rion  threatened  to  stop  him. 

To  do  that  was  to  rouse  all  the  devil  in  him.  His  first 
instinct  was  to  silence  her  at  any  cost.  When  she  had 
shown  herself  determined  to  baulk  him,  he  had  thought 
no  more  of  trying  to  kill  her  than  of  kicking  a  mad  dog 
that  threatened  to  bite  him. 

His  one  feeling  in  regard  to  that  attempt  was  infinite 
anger  that  he  had  failed.  The  drug  he  had  chosen  was 
one  that  would  have  been  exceedingly  difficult  to  trace, 
and  he  cursed  his  folly  for  having  bungled. 

Meanwhile,  his  suspicions  that  the  girl  herself  had  cer- 
tain things  to  hide  in  her  past  had  been  aroused,  in  con- 
sequence of  something  that  had  fallen  from  her  in  their 
first  conversation ;  and  when  it  was  necessary  to  go  to 
her  room  to  search  for  the  poisoned  tea,  he  had  used  the 
opportunity  to  rummage  her  boxes  for  any  paper  or  ref- 
erence that  would  give  him  the  clue.  He  had  found  a 
clue  to  the  fact  that  she  was  the  girl  who  got  hold  of  the 
jewels  that  day  when  he  had  been  arrested  at  Birming- 
ham, and  this  had  determined  him  to  find  out  more. 

This  he  had  done  in  much  greater  detail  than  he  had 
anticipated,  thanks  to  the  shrewd  stroke  of  overhauling 
Dessie's  rooms,  and  the  information  which  had  been 
given  him  by  Sir  Edmund  Landale.  He  quite  appre- 
ciated that  man's  petty  and  malignant  scoundrelism,  even 
while  he  himself  resolved  to  make  use  alike  of  the  man 
and  his  knowledge.  What  he  had  learnt  had  been  much 
increased  by  the  way  it  had  fitted  in  with  many  other  facts 
already  in  his  possession;  and  he  now  felt  that  he  was 
almost  certain  to  win. 

When  the  cab  stopped  at  Mrs.  Markham's  house  he 


1 04  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

jumped  out,  tossed  the  man  a  liberal  fare — he  was  always 
generous  with  cabmen  and  all  who  ministered  to  his  com- 
fort — and  ran  confidently  up  the  steps  of  the  splendid 
house. 

The  servant,  quick  to  recognise  the  rising  sun  and  bow 
down  to  it,  was  very  deferential,  and  told  him  that  Mrs. 
Markham  was  not  at  home,  but  had  left  a  message  ask- 
ing him  to  wait  should  he  call  in  her  absence. 

He  went  in,  as  though  he  were  already  master  of  the 
house,  and  strolled  into  the  library  to  smoke. 

"  Is  Miss  Merrion  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "  She  waited  in  because  she 
is  expecting  a  visitor,  sir — Mr.  Cheriton." 

"Good!  I'm  first,"  he  thought,  and  then  added: 
"  Tell  her,  with  my  compliments — stay,  where  is  she  i  " 

"  In  the  small  drawing-room,  sir." 

7<  Ah !  I'll  go  to  her  myself.  No,  don't  bother  to  an- 
nounce me.  I  know  the  way  well  enough."  And  hum- 
ming a  gay  Venetian  barcarolle,  he  went  up  the  mag- 
nificent staircase,  and  with  a  smile  on  his  lips  opened  the 
door. 

Dessie  was  sitting  waiting  for  Tom  Cheriton,  and 
when  the  door  opened  she  looked  up  with  a  glow  of  ex- 
pectation in  her  face;  but  the  light  died  out  sharply  in 
her  disappointment  at  seeing  that  instead  of  the  man  she 
loved  it  was  the  man  of  all  others  she  hated  and  feared. 

She  got  up  at  once  to  leave  the  room,  resolved  not  to 
remain  alone  with  him. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  to  you,"  he  said,  barring  her  path. 

"  I  will  not  stay  in  the  room  with  you.  I  don't  feel 
safe  alone."  He  understood  the  reference  and  laughed. 

"  And  your  instincts  are  about  as  true  as  they  can  be, 
too.  You  are  not  safe  in  a  room  alone  with  me.  But 


"  I  Know  Your  Whole  Story  "         105 

you  will  run  more  danger  just  now  in  leaving  the  room 
than  in  stopping  here." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  insist  on  your  allowing  me  to  pass. 
This  is  monstrous.  Would  you  have  me  ring  for  the  as- 
sistance of  the  servants  ?  " 

He  looked  at  her  during  a  long  pause  of  silence,  while 
she  faced  him,  her  anger  bringing  quick  flushes  to  her 
cheeks. 

"  You  are  right.  It  would  be  monstrous  to  ring  for 
the  servants.  It  would  be  scandalous,  grossly  scandal- 
ous, for  you  " — he  flashed  a  threat  at  her — "  for  you, 
Miss — Marlow,  now,  do  you  wish  to  go?  " 

He  stood  aside,  opened  the  door,  bowed  low  with  one 
of  his  gestures  of  exaggerated  politeness,  and  laid  his 
hand  to  his  heart. 

But  the  mere  mention  of  the  name  had  conquered  the 
girl,  who  all  white  and  trembling  had  sunk  down  on  the 
nearest  chair. 

"  You  are  very  foolish  to  drive  me  to  give  you  these 
sharp  thrusts,  young  lady,"  he  said,  closing  the  door  and 
going  near  her.  "  Very  foolish.  But  your  self-will  has 
to  be  broken  in.  "Now  you  will  understand  that  things 
are  very  different  from  what  they  were  when  we  met  this 
morning,  and  when  you  are  sufficiently  recovered  to  be 
able  to  hear  me  out  I  will  tell  you  what  you  had  better 
know  before  your  expected  visitor  arrives — I  mean  Mr. 
Cheriton." 

The  mention  of  her  lover's  name  was  to  the  girl  like 
the  turn  of  a  bayonet  in  a  wound,  and  a  low  cry  of  pain 
escaped  her. 

The  sight  was  painful  even  to  the  man  who  had  caused 
the  trouble.  He  hated  the  sight  of  sorrow,  and  especially 
was  the  distress  of  women  unpleasant.  It  did  not  soften 


io6  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

him  in  the  slightest.  Had  the  girl  been  actually  dying 
he  would  still  have  carried  out  his  plan.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  his  project  to  remove  this  particular  obstacle  from 
his  course,  and  remove  it  he  would  in  any  way  that 
offered  itself.  He  would  have  preferred  a  way  that 
made  others'  trouble  and  sorrow  as  slight  as  possible — 
or  that  would  at  any  rate  have  kept  him  out  of  personal 
contact  with  the  evidences  of  the  trouble.  But  if  no 
other  way  was  open  save  this,  then  he  must  endure  the 
discomfort  of  witnessing  the  distress  of  the  girl  who 
ventured  to  oppose  him. 

He  prided  himself  a  little  upon  this  selfish  sensibility, 
regarding  it  rather  as  softness  of  heart;  and  he  took  it 
for  a  point  in  his  own  favour  that  so  far  from  gloating 
over  Bessie's  humiliation  he  was  sorry  for  her. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  have  to  cause  you  this  pain,"  he 
said,  in  a  voice  that  was  very  sympathetic,  "  and,  believe 
me,  I  would  not  have  done  it  if  you  had  not  forced  me. 
Even  now  I  am  quite  ready  to  proclaim  a  truce.  I  would 
so  much  rather  be  your  friend  than " 

The  hypocrisy  of  this  profession  stung  the  girl  into 
protest.  She  looked  up,  her  face  grey  and  her  lips  trem- 
bling, and  tried  to  keep  her  voice  steady  as  she  said: 

"  Say  what  you  have  come  to  say,  but  spare  me  these 
falsehoods  about  your  personal  feelings.  You  have  so 
far  beaten  me  that  I  shall  listen  quietly  to  you." 

"  I  know  your  whole  story,"  he  answered  "  and  I  will 
tell  you  plainly  what  use  I  mean  to  make  of  it." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE   SHADOW    OF   THE   PAST 

"  I  AM  bound  to  say,  Miss  Merrion " — the  Count 
paused  as  he  mentioned  the  name,  and  then  interpolated 
— "  I  will  use  that  name,  of  course,  until  you  compel  me 
to  use  any  other — I  am  bound  to  admit,  I  repeat,  that  the 
luck  has  been  against  you  heavily  in  this  matter — very 
heavily.  In  fact,  I've  had  it  all.  I  don't  know  what 
your  philosophy  of  life  is — -I  should  like  to  know  it  in- 
deed, because  your  life,  like  mine,  has  been  a  varied  one 
— but  my  philosophy  is,  that  it's  not  a  bit  of  good  to  fight 
against  one's  luck.  I  used  to  do  it,"  he  said,  airily,  "  and 
to  kick  against  the  pricks ;  tried  to  take  the  bit  in  my 
teeth,  and  used  to  swear  that  I'd  go  my  own  way,  but — " 

"  Will  you  please  say  what  concerns  me,  not  what  con- 
cerns you  ?  "  interrupted  Dessie,  curtly. 

"  I  am  not  speaking  without  a  purpose,  believe  me,"  he 
retorted.  "  I  never  do  in  a  thing  of  this  sort ;  and  I'm 
not  wasting  time.  You've  had  rather  a  knockdown  blow ; 
there  are  some  more  to  come ;  and  it's  no  use  my  begin- 
ning to  talk  seriously  till  you've  quite  recovered  the  full 
use  of  your  faculties.  You've  got  an  ugly  corner  to  turn 
and  a  heavy  decision  to  make — and  I  don't  want  to  tell 
you  the  facts  till  you're  quite  yourself.  Some  people 
may  like  to  take  advantage  of  a  girl  at  the  moment  when 
her  senses  are  half  numbed  by  the  effects  of  the  first  blow. 
But  I  don't  want  that.  I  want  you  to  think  while  I'm 

107 


io8  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

talking  and  be  ready,  when  I've  done,  to  make  a  final 
answer." 

"  I  am  perfectly  ready  to  listen,  and  perfectly  capable 
of  understanding  all  you  may  say,"  returned  Dessie. 
"  But  I  wish  you  to  be  as  quick  as  possible." 

"  I  don't  know  that  there  is  much  for  me  to  say  after 
all,"  said  de  Montalt,  speaking  slowly  and  meditatively. 
"  You  will  understand,  of  course,  that  there  are  certain 
parts  of  the  narrative  in  which  I  have  not  yet  all  the  de- 
tails. For  instance,  -I  do  not  know  all  the  contents  of 
your  safe  at  the  Safe  Deposit  Company — but  I  know  you 
have  one  there,  and  that  it  is  in  the  name — shall  I  men- 
tion it  again  ?  " — he  stopped  abruptly,  dropped  his  voice, 
having  noted  her  start  at  the  mention  of  the  safe,  and 
glanced  about  him,  as  if  to  suggest  that  it  might  be  pru- 
dent to  mention  no  more  details  than  were  necessary, 
even  though  they  were  alone. 

Her  answer  gave  him  the  first  clue  to  the  line  which 
she  was  likely  to  take. 

"  You  may  mention  anything  and  everything,"  she 
said.  "  It  is  quite  obvious  that  whatever  has  to  be 
told  about  me  must  be  told  in  full.  Say  what  you 
like." 

"  I  don't  agree  with  you,"  he  answered,  sharply ;  but 
her  reply  shook  a  little  of  his  confidence.  "  You  have 
much  to  learn  yet.  Well,  then,  the  name  in  which  you 
rent  the  safe  is  Marlow — Dorothy  Marlow;  by  a  coin- 
cidence, the  name  from  which  you  were  flying  that  March 
afternoon  five  years  ago,  when  passing  through  Birming- 
ham Station  you  stole  some  valuable  jewels,  very  valu- 
able jewels — no  others  than  the  Rubies  of  Rohilkund." 

Dessie  moved,  as  if  going  to  protest,  but  said  nothing. 

"  The  father  of  Dorothy  Marlow  was  one  Anthony 
Marlow,  at  one  time  a  man  in  a  good  position  and  reputed 


The  Shadow  of  the  Past  I  og 

wealthy.  He  was  a  bank  manager  until  one  day  two  per- 
sons called  for  him,  and  he  stepped  straight  from  the 
bank  parlour  into  the  police  cell,  passing  on  to  a  convict 
prison  to  work  out  his  heavy  sentence  for  forgery.  He 
didn't  die  in  prison,  as  his  friends  might  well  have  wished 
him  to;  but  came  out  to  be  a  curse  to  his  family — a 
drunkard,  a  swindler,  and  a  thief  of  the  lowest  kind.  His 
wife,  like  a  fool,  clung  to  him,  and  never  till  his  death 
ceased  to  believe  in  the  possibility  of  his  repentance.  But 
why  go  on? — you  know  the  tale,  and  it  only  blisters  the 
tongue  to  tell  it  now.  He  made  the  whole  of  his  family 
utterly  miserable,  abandoned,  and  wretched." 

Dessie  had  listened  with  her  eyes  closed  and  her  fin- 
gers clasped  rigidly,  and  when  he  paused  a  moment,  the 
room  seemed  first  to  grow  dark,  and  then  to  swim; 
noises  sounded  in  her  ears,  and  she  feared  she  was  going 
to  faint. 

He  noticed  the  change  in  her. 

"  I  would  rather  say  no  more,"  he  said. 

"  Go  on,"  she  replied,  after  a  minute's  struggle  for  self- 
mastery,  the  words  slipping  out  between  lips  all  dry  and 
compressed  in  her  pain. 

"  As  you  will.  His  son,  who  had  been  placed  in  a 
good  position  by  friends,  was  led  away  by  the  man  and 
shot  in  a  burgling  affray.  His  daughters — there  were 

two "  with  a  smothered  sob  the  girl  put  up  her  hands 

and  covered  her  face,  pressing  it  with  all  her  strength — 
"  his  daughters  took  different  paths.  One  stuck  by  the 

home  and  the  mother,  but  the  elder No,  it," 

he  cried,  breaking  off  excitedly.  "  I'm  not  going  on  with 
this  any  further.  Enough  that  I  know  the  whole  story. 
You  can  see  that."  With  that  he  got  up  and  went  to  one 
of  the  windows  and  stood  there  to  give  the  girl  time  to 
recover  herself. 


1 1  o  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

Dessie  sat  mazed  with  the  pain  and  sorrow  that  the 
scene  caused.  Everything  that  she  had  striven  so  jeal- 
ously to  hide,  every  horrible  outline  of  the  grim  skeleton 
that  she  had  thought  locked  safe  away  in  the  secrecy  of 
her  own  heart,  was  known;  and  known  to  this  man  of 
all  others,  who  was  resolved  and  eager  to  use  it  all  solely 
as  his  own  interests  prompted. 

The  smart  of  having  the  old  wounds  torn  open  with  this 
cruel  hand  was  mingled  now  with  the  recognition  of  her 
own  helplessness  and  overthrow,  and  the  two  together 
seemed  to  turn  every  vein  in  her  body  into  a  throbbing 
course  of  racking  torture,  leaving  no  sense  active  save 
that  of  suffering. 

After  a  long  interval  of  silence  she  said : 

"  I  am  ready  to  listen  again.  I  accept  that  you  know 
much.  What  do  you  intend  to  do  with  your  knowledge  ?  " 

"  I  am  sick  of  this  scene,"  he  said.  "  I  will  make  a 
bargain  with  you — secrecy  for  secrecy.  You  harbour  a 
number  of  altogether  unfounded  suspicions  against  me; 
I  know  the  truth  about  you.  I  will  hold  my  tongue  if 
you  agree  to  put  aside  as  impossible  your  suspicions,  and, 
of  course,  make  reparation." 

"  Reparation  ?    What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  The  jewels  that  were  stolen  in  Birmingham  were 
stolen  from  me  in  the  first  instance.  They  must  be  re- 
stored, of  course." 

"  How  did  you  get  them  ?  "  asked  Dessie,  with  an  in- 
stinct of  suspicion. 

"  You  had  better  not  ask,"  was  the  reply.  "  The  story 
will  not  make  pleasant  hearing  for  anyone — for  you  es- 
pecially." 

Dessie  looked  at  him  quickly.  She  feared  him  more 
than  ever.  The  knowledge  of  her  history  which  he  had 


The  Shadow  of  the  Past  1 1 1 

already  shown  that  he  possessed  made  her  view  the  in- 
sinuation in  his  words  with  a  fresh  and  sickening  dread. 
To  her  he  had  become  a  man  whose  threats  were  never 
empty  ones,  and  whose  acts  were  only  sure  to  be  more 
deadly  than  his  words. 

She  sat  and  thought  as  connectedly  as  her  intense 
agitation  would  permit;  but  she  could  only  see  her  way 
to  one  course. 

"I  can  do  nothing  by  myself  now,"  she  said,  after  a 
long  pause.  "  I  told  you  this  morning  that  Mr.  Cheriton 
would  be  here  to-day  and  that  I  should  tell  him  every- 
thing. That  determination  is  strengthened  by  what  you 
have  said.  I  thought  he  would  have  been  here  now " 

As  she  was  speaking  a  knock  at  the  door  interrupted 
her,  and  a  servant  came  in  with  a  telegram. 

"  A  telegram  for  you,  Miss,"  said  the  man.  Dessie 
took  it,  and  with  fingers  still  trembling  tore  it  open,  the 
man  waiting  to  see  if  any  reply  was  to  be  sent. 

"  There  is  no  answer,"  she  said ;  and  the  Count  de 
Montalt,  who  was  watching  and  listening  with  every 
nerve  at  full  tension,  detected  in  the  voice  and  manner  a 
tone  of  disappointment. 

While  the  servant  went  out  and  closed  the  door  behind 
him  Dessie  made  a  big  fight  for  self-control,  but  couldn't 
get  it.  The  whole  world  seemed  to  have  deserted  her, 
and  though  she  would  have  given  all  she  was  worth  to 
have  hidden  her  emotion  from  the  man  who  was  watch- 
ing her  and  waiting  for  her  to  speak,  she  could  not  re- 
press the  evidence  of  her  trouble  that  made  her  lips  trem- 
ble and  her  voice  falter. 

"  Mr.  Cheriton  is — is  detained,  and  cannot  come  to  me 
till — till  to-morrow.  I  can,  therefore,  do  nothing — till 
then.  And  now  excuse  me.  -I  am  upset." 


112  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

She  was  hurrying  out  of  the  room  when  the  door  was 
opened,  this  time  quickly,  and  Mrs.  Markham  came  fcur- 
rying  in. 

"  Oh,  Godefroi,  I  am  so  sorry  to  be  so  late,"  she  began, 
but  seeing  Dessie's  white  face  and  agitated  look  she 
stopped  and  cried,  "  Whatever's  the  matter?  Dessie, 
what  is  it?  Have  you  two  been  quarrelling?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  the  Count,  quietly.  "  We 
have  simply  been  keeping  each  other  company  till  you 
came  home.  And  now,"  he  smiled,  as  if  most  indul- 
gently, "  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  Miss  Merrion  has  had  a 
little  disappointment  of  a  kind  which  you  and  I  can  sym- 
pathise with,  Dora.  Mr.  Cheriton  was  to  have  been  here 
this  afternoon."  He  smiled  again,  and  looked  into  Mrs. 
Markham's  face  lovingly  as  he  carried  her  hand  to  his 
lips,  and  then  turning,  opened  the  door  for  Dessie  to  go 
away.  "  Better  news  to-morrow,  Miss  Merrion,"  he  said, 
as  she  went  out;  and  the  expression  of  his  voice,  the 
emphasis  on  the  name,  and  the  phrase  he  chose,  were  all 
understood  by  the  miserable  girl  as  she  ran  upstairs,  her 
grief  half  choking  her. 

Mrs.  Markham  stared  after  her  in  astonishment,  and 
then  turned  to  her  lover  to  put  her  feelings  into  words. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  haven't  been  saying  anything  to 
upset  her,  Godefroi  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I've  never  known 
her  take  such  a  fit  into  her  head  before.  She's"  gener- 
ally so  cool  and  self-reserved  about  Mr.  Cheriton.  I've 
often  wondered,  indeed,  whether  she  really  loves  him 
very  deeply." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  if  we  were  apart,  and  you  ex- 
pected me  to  come  to  you — as  I  would  at  your  lightest 
nod — and  I  was  to  telegraph,  '  I  cannot  come,'  that  you 
would  just"  toss  that  pretty  head  and  pout  these  ruby 


The  Shadow  of  the  Past  1 1 3 

lips  " — kissing  them — "  and  say,  '  Let  him  come,  or  let 
him  stay  away,  it  is  all  one  to  me  ? '  Is  that  what  you 
would  do  ? " 

She  was  clinging  to  him,  looking  up  into  his  face,  and 
she  sighed  and  then  smiled,  coaxingly,  as  she  asked : — 

"  And  if  -I  were  to  ?  And  if  you  got  to  know  it- 
would  it  make  you  rery,  very  unhappy,  Godef roi  ?  " 

He  smiled  down  into  her  eyes  before  he  answered,  and 
taking  her  face  in  his  hands,  held  it  upturned  to  him. 

tl  If  I  thought  you  could  ever  grow  indifferent  to  me, 
not  caring  whether  I  were  with  you  or  away,  Dora,"  he 
answered,  slowly,  and  as  if  with  deep  feeling,  "  I  should 
not  care  to  live.  -I  cannot  bear  to  think  of  it,  my  dear." 
And  he  stooped  and  kissed  her  again,  passionately.  Then 
he  held  her  at  arm's  length,  still  looking  lovingly  into  her 
face.  "  And  to  think,  sweetheart,  that  we  have  been  so 
long  in  the  world  and  have  been  able  to  live  without  the 
exquisite  delight  of  this  mutual  love  of  ours.  Ah !  what 
a  life  we  will  have  together  in  the  future.  What  revenge 
we  will  take  upon  the  past !  How  happy  we  will  be.  I 
wish  we  were  married,  Dora.  I  hate  this  study  of  the 
conventions — this  waiting." 

His  tender  tone  and  passionate  kisses  thrilled  her. 

"•It  shall  be  when  you  will,"  she  answered,  submis- 
sively. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  wish  it  ?  Come,  and  sit  down  ; 
I'll  tell  you.  Of  course,  it's  only  a  stupid  lover's  fears, 
but  the  feeling  has  been  haunting  me  all  day,  and  I  said 
to  myself,  '  I  will  tell  my  sweetheart.'  Do  you  know, 
Dora,  I  have  the  thought  that  love  is  never  love  until  each 
can  tell  the  other  the  littlenesses  and  weaknesses  that 
make  up  half  cf  one's  life.  This  is  a  weakness." 

"  I  can  never  think  of  weakness  in  connection  with  you, 


114  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

Godefroi.  You  always  seem  to  me  so  strong,  so  self- 
reliant,  so  resolute — but  I  shall  love  to  hear  of  a  weak- 
ness," and  she  laughed  in  sheer  childish  happiness. 

"  It  was  only  a  dream  of  mine.  Something  last  night 
must  have  made  me  very  thoughtful.  I  walked  to  my 
hotel,  and  went  straight  to  my  room  and  to  bed  and  I 
dreamt !  as  vividly  as  only  one  with  my  imagination  can 
dream.  First,  the  sun  was  shining  in  a  land  that  seemed 
all  gold,  and  you  and  I  were  walking  hand  in  hand  on  the 
shore  of  a  sea,  silver  calm ;  and  the  air  seemed  soft  with 
the  sweetness  of  peace  and  love.  Then  came  a  change. 
It  was  still  day,  but  the  sun  was  setting,  and  we  were  on  a 
road  hard  and  stony,  leading  over  a  barren  plain  to  the 
gates  of  a  city  that  frowned  on  us  from  ahead.  And  we 
toiled  over  the  rough  way,  each  full  of  love  for  the  other, 
each  helping,  cheering,  hoping — till  as  we  came  close  to 
the  gates  of  the  city,  the  red  sun  sank  suddenly,  the  air 
turned  dark,  and  when  we  passed  the  gates,  they  closed 
with  a  heavy  clang  behind  us,  and  the  night  felt  chill  and 
clinging.  Then  turning  I  saw  on  the  gate  the  words  in 
letters  of  dull,  menacing  lead — '  Who  enter,  part ; '  and 
I  seemed  to  grasp  in  a  moment  the  meaning  of  all — we 
were  to  part." 

He  paused  and  drew  her  closer  to  him  as  he  con- 
tinued : — 

"  I  took  you  in  my  arms  then,  and  hid  your  face  on  my 
breast,  that  you  might  not  see  what  was  written,  and 
turning,  I  went  back  to  the  gate  and  struck  it,  and  strove 
with  all  my  force  to  open  it.  But  all  that  came  of  my 
efforts  was  a  waste  of  strength  and  a  mocking  laugh.  I 
turned  again,  and  holding  you  that  you  might  not  hear 
the  sound,  I  fled  with  you  along  the  road  into  the  middle 
of  the  city.  Then  suddenly  there  was  a  gaping,  gibing, 
jeering  crowd  at  our  heels  and  on  all  sides  of  us;  out- 


The  Shadow  of  the  Past  1 1 5 

running  me  because  I  carried  you.  And  they  turned  to 
point  and  laugh,  and  utter  sneers  at  us  because  we  loved 
each  other  and  were  to  part.  And  then — ah,  Dora,  I 
can  feel  them  now — long,  bony  fingers,  and  strong  skele- 
ton arms  seized  and  held  me,  and  though  I  struggled  till 
I  thought  my  heart  would  burst  in  my  frenzy,  they  tore 
you  away,  and  I  saw  you  borne  away  till  you  were  lost 
in  the  distance,  and  a  sense  of  the  awfulness  of  solitude, 
of  a  life  to  be  passed  without  the  warmth  of  your  touch, 
your  smile,  your  kisses,  your  love,  came  upon  me  and 
overwhelmed  me  with  misery.  I  knew  then,  my  darling, 
what  it  would  be  to  me  to  lose  you;  and  when  I  woke 
it  was  with  the  terrible  dread  on  me  that  the  dream  was 
one  of  those  strange  warnings  that  we  mortals  have, 
omens  of  coming  calamity.  But  it  shall  not  be,  shall  ii? 
Tell  me,  sweetheart,  nothing  shall  ever  part  us." 

"  Nothing,  Godef roi ;  nothing  on  earth  if  I  can  help  it. 
If  you  wish  it  I  will  marry  you  to-morrow."  She  clung 
to  him  and  kissed  him,  and  made  him  kiss  her  over  and 
over  again,  as  if  some  protection  against  the  fear  of 
parting  lay  in  the  multitude  of  kisses. 

And  in  this  way  it  came  to  be  tacitly  understood  be- 
tween them  that  the  marriage  should  take  place  very 
soon;  and  when  the  servants  brought  in  some  tea  to 
them,  Dora  Markham  was  all  laughter  and  merriment  in 
an  excess  of  pleasure  at  the  anticipation,  with  no  thought 
straying  from  her  own  ecstasy  to  the  wretched  girl  up- 
stairs who,  in  the  attempt  to  save  her  friend  from  the 
shipwreck  of  this  marriage  had  already  risked  her  own 
life,  and  now  saw  her  every  hope  of  happiness  in  jeop- 
ardy. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE   STORY   OF   RED  DELILAH 

DESSIE  MERRION  rose  the  next  morning  ill  alike  in 
mind  and  body. 

The  evening  before  had  been  inexpressibly  trying  to 
her.  At  dinner  she  had  forced  herself  to  play  a  part 
and  hide  her  condition  from  her  friend's  eyes;  and  she 
succeeded  only  because  the  little  love  scene  with  the 
Count  had  left  Mrs.  Markham  with  no  room  in  her 
thoughts  for  anything  save  the  hope  that  he  would  urge 
her  on  to  a  speedy  marriage.  After  dinner  they  had  all 
gone  to  the  theatre,  and  while  the  two  were  love-making, 
Dessie  had  simulated  an  interest  in  the  play,  while  in 
reality  she  had  been  engrossed  by  the  tragedy  of  her  own 
troubles. 

As  soon  as  they  reached  home  the  girl  had  pleaded 
a  headache  and  gone  off  to  bed  to  lie  awake,  weighed 
down  with  sorrow  and  hopeless  misery,  till  the  dim  light 
of  the  dawn  seemed  to  bring  relief  by  inspiring  a  sugges- 
tion of  something  she  could  do. 

Throughout  all  there  were  two  great  fears.  One  was 
that  Tom  Cheriton  would  fail  to  see  her  past  in  the  light 
in  which  she  had  always  thought  he  would.  The  other 
concerned  the  sister,  to  whom  de  Montalt  had  referred 
with  such  grim  significance. 

Over  and  over  again  her  question  and  his  reply  kept 
recurring  to  her.  "  How  did  you  get  them  ?  "  "  You 
had  better  not  ask.  The  story  will  not  make  pleasant 

116 


The  Story  of  Red  Delilah  117 

Bearing  for  anyone — for  you  especially."  What  did  he 
mean?  She  had  not  dared  to  ask  him.  But  a  means  of 
finding  out  the  truth  by  herself  occurred  to  her — and  it 
was  the  thought  that  in  this  way  she  would  have  some- 
thing to  fill  up  her  time  until  her  lover  came,  which  gave 
her  some  relief. 

The  two  or  three  hours'  sleep  that  she  had  in  the  early 
morning  after  coming  to  this  decision  calmed  her  a  good 
deal  and  steadied  her  nerves,  and  when  she  went  down- 
stairs it  was  with  a  full  perception  of  the  necessity  for 
facing  the  crisis  resolutely,  and  not  permitting  herseK 
to  give  way  to  such  outward  weakness  as  that  in  which 
her  interview  with  the  Count  had  ended  on  the  day  be- 
fore. A  letter  from  Tom  Cheriton  cheered  her.  -It  was 
full  of  concern  for  her  and  regret  that  his  uncle's  illness 
had  made  it  impossible  to  get  away,  while  he  promised 
that  the  next  day  should  see  him  by  her  side  in  town.  He 
promised  this,  and  told  her  to  depend  upon  him.  This 
was  the  part  of  the  letter  which  cheered  her. 

Her  intention  was  to  go  to  Scotland  Yard  in  her  char- 
acter as  a  journalist,  and  as  if  in  search  of  matter  for  an 
article,  to  make  inquiries  about  those  Rohilkund  jewels. 
She  was  not  unknown  at  the  Yard,  as  she  had  been  there 
more  than  once  for  similar  purposes  in  her  hunt  for 
good  "  copy."  She  asked  for  Inspector  Malcolm,  whom 
she  knew  personally,  and  he  received  her  very  kindly  and 
courteously.  She  was  a  favourite  of  his ;  and  as  he  had 
first  known  her  as  a  girl  with  no  friends,  fighting  a  plucky 
fight  for  a  living,  he  had  always  been  glad  to  help  her, 
if  a  chance  came  in  his  way. 

"You  don't  look  very  well,  Miss  Merrion,"  he  said, 
looking  at  her  with  kind  compassionate  eyes.  "  I'm 
afraid  you're  overworking.  Got  some  new  story  ready 
for  us  ?  We  always  buy  your  books,  and  it  would  do  you 


1 1 8  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

good  to  sse  the  pleasure  which  they  cause  when  I  take 
one  home." 

"  I  think  one  will  be  published  next  month,  Mr.  Mal- 
colm. But  it's  not  the  writing  of  that  which  has  made 
me  run  down.  I  finished  it  long  since ;  and  the  pleasure 
of  writing  it  was  like  a  holiday.  I  shall  send  you  a  copy 
with  my  name  in  it  if  you'll  let  me.  But  now,  I've  come 
on  business  this  morning.  You  may  have  seen  some 
mystery  stories — jewel  stories — of  mine,  running  in  one 
or  two  places.  No  ?  Well,  they're  not  the  same  class  of 
thing  as  the  books  which  you  like.  They're  pot  boilers, 
you  see.  People  like  that  sort  of  thing;  so  I  have  to 
turn  them  out.  One  must  boil  to  live,  you  know.  Most 
of  them  are  founded  on  fact;  and  to  tell  you  the  truth 
I'm  in  search  of  facts  now.  Things  that  actually  happen 
are  so  much  more  extraordinary  than  things  one  imag- 
ines. In  fact,  it's  only  the  impossible  that's  common- 
place nowadays.  What  I  want  now  is  a  good,  rich, 
fruity  fact  with  plenty  of  crime  in  it,  and  to  be  served 
with  more  than  a  soupgon  of  murder  and  mystery." 

"  Well,  we've  plenty  of  it  binned  here,"  said  the  In- 
spector, "  but  I  don't  know  that  I'm  glad  to  hear  you're 
taking  to  writing  about  that  side  of  human  nature,  Miss 
Merrion.  We  like  your  books  for  the  absence  of  it." 

"  Then  don't  you  read  these  tales.  But  I'll  tell  you  the 
case  which  has  been  suggested  to  me  as  likely  to  serve 
my  present  purpose  " — she  took  a  piece  of  paper  from 
her  pocket  and  read  from  it — "  the  case  of  the  Rubies  of 
Rohilkund ;  a  murder,  or  mystery,  or  intrigue,  five  or  ten 
years  ago.  There,  can  you  help  me  to  get  the  facts  of 
it?" 

Inspector  Malcolm  looked  at  her  so  shrewdly  and 
gravely  for  a  moment  that  the  thought  crossed  her  mind 
that  he  suspected  she  had  some  other  motive.  She  was 


The  Story  of  Red  Delilah  119 

very  nervous,  but  his  hesitation  sprang  from  no  other 
cause  than  momentary  reluctance  to  tell  the  story  to  her. 

"  It's  not  a  nice  story,  Miss  Merrion,  and  I  wish  you 
had  asked  for  any  other.  I  know  the  facts  well  enough — 
indeed,  no  one  better,  for  I  was  personally  engaged  in  it. 
If  you  can  do  without  precise  details — I  mean  exact 
spelling  of  names,  days  of  the  month  and  week,  and  so 
on — I  can  give  you  the  facts  myself  without  bothering  to 
look  them  up.  Enough  for  your  purpose  I  expect." 

"  Sure  to  be,"  assented  Dessie.    "  If  not,  I'll  ask  you." 

"  It  must  be  seven  years  I  think — either  six  or  seven  at 
any  rate — that  the  case  came  under  our  notice ;  and  giv- 
ing you  the  facts,  not  in  the  order  in  which  we  found 
them  out,  but  somewhat  as  they  occurred  they  were  about 
these.  You  can  make  your  notes  and  pop  in  any  question 
you  want  to  ask.  The  jewels  got  called  the  Rubies  of 
Rohilkund,  because  of  a  newspaper  paragraph;  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact  there  were  only  three  stones  in  this  part 
of  the  business.  Three  very  large,  very  fine  stones  and 
immensely  valuable;  and  they  were  in  a  gold  setting — 
a  star  which  had  formed  part  of  a  most  lovely  Indian 
State  ornament — the  Regal  Crescent." 

"  Any  picture  of  it — a  block  looks  so  well,  you  know," 
said  Dessie. 

"  -I  dare  say  I  could  hunt  you  up  one.  It  was  a  curious 
star  with  only  three  points — one  of  these  huge  rubies  at 
each,  the  fourth  point  joining  it  to  the  centre  of  the 
crescent.  This  sort  of  thing — "  and  he  drew  a  rough  out- 
line of  the  design.  "  Well,  the  Crescent  was  part  of  the 
State  jewels  of  Rohilkund,  and  they  got  over  to  this 
country  under  very  curious  circumstances.  The  then 
Maharajah — he's  dead  now — was  about  as  bad  a  man  as 
any  State  could  be  cursed  with,  and  when  he  had  spent 
every  rupee  he  could  drag  from  his  wretched  people,  he 


1 20  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

hit  on  the  dodge  of  selling  the  State  jewels — they  are 
worth  a  fabulous  sum,  and  famed  all  the  world  over — and 
getting  paste  imitations  made  to  put  in  their  places.  Ac- 
cordingly he  sent  over  to  Europe  a  man  named  Maiwand, 
whom  he  trusted  implicitly,  though  the  man  was  as  big 
a  drunkard  and  scoundrel  as  the  master ;  and  he  gave  into 
his  charge  half  of  all  this  most  priceless  collection." 

"  What  do  you  say  was  his  name  ? "  asked  Dessie, 
looking  up  from  the  shorthand  note  she  was  taking. 

"  Maiwand.  Well,  you  can  guess  what  happened — 
at  least  you  could  if  you  knew  much  of  London  life.  The 
man  settled  first  in  Paris  and  then  came  on  to  London. 
He  made  a  few  attempts  to  ascertain  what  it  would  cost 
to  get  the  pastes  he  wanted,  and  also  one  or  two  inquiries 
as  to  the  best  way  of  selling  the  jewels.  But  he  never 
intended  to  get  the  pastes,  and  meant  merely  to  sell  the 
jewels  under  the  Maharajah's  authority,  which  he  held, 
and  stick  to  the  proceeds.  You  know,  of  course,  this 
is  a  murder  story  ?  " 

"  Was  it  this  man  who  was  murdered  then  ?  "  asked 
Dessie,  trying  to  keep  her  voice  steady. 

"  It  was,  and  by  a  woman,  too.  Soon  after  he  settled 
here  he  got  into  tow  with  a  woman  who  was  then  in  the 
height  of  her  notoriety,  and  was  known  as  '  Red  Delilah/ 
from  the  colour  of  her  wonderful  hair.  She  was  a  most 
extraordinary  woman  to  look  at — a  sort  of  cross  between 
one's  notions  of  an  enchantress,  a  devil,  and  an  angel. 
But  she  was  a  wonderfully  clever  woman ;  and  the  men 
that  came  her  way  never  got  free  without  paying  dearly 
— and  I  should  think  more  men  were  in  love  with  her  in 
the  short  time  she  was  famous  than  with  any  other." 

"  Your  office  is  very  close,  Mr.  Malcolm.  Do  you 
think  you  could  give  me  a  glass  of  water?  I  think  I 
walked  too  fast  in  coming  here." 


The  Story  of  Red  Delilah  1 21 

Bessie  spoke  with  great  effort,  and  the  inspector  sa\\ 
that  her  face  was  bloodless  enough  to  suggest  fainting, 
He  got  her  some  water  instantly,  opened  the  window 
and  was  all  solicitude  and  sympathy. 

"I  could  see  when  you  came  in  you  weren't  strong, 
Miss  Merrion.  Can't  you  run  down  into  the  country 
for  a  few  days?  A  healthy  sea  air  would  do  the  world 
for  you." 

"  It's  all  right,  I'm  better  now,"  she  answered,  after  a 
minute.  "  I  had  a  fever  you  know,  some  little  time  since, 
and  perhaps  I  haven't  quite  picked  up  all  my  strength 
again.  Go  on  with  the  facts,  will  you?  I  suppose  I've 
got  most  of  the  material  ones  now,  though.  Let  me  see, 
what  did  you  say  was  the  name  of  the  woman?  Red — • 
Red " 

"  Red  Delilah,"  said  the  inspector,  answering  her,  but 
looking  at  her  as  though  he  much  doubted  the  wisdom 
of  keeping  her  writing  any  longer.  "  I'll  hurry  over  the 
rest,"  he  said,  in  part  satisfaction  of  this  thought.  "  We 
never  quite  knew  who  she  was  and  where  she  came  from ; 
and  to  this  hour  no  one  knows  what  became  of  her.  It 
was  said  at  one  time  that  she  was  a  Belgian  from  Ant- 
werp, with  a  very  bad  past ;  another  version  was  that  she 
was  the  daughter  of  old  Marlow,  the  forger  of  Stafford 
—Don't  you  feel  any  better,  Miss  Merrion  ?  You're  still 
awfully  white  and  shaky?  Shall  I  stop?  'No?  Well, 
a  third  yarn  was  that  she  was  a  Whitechapel  girl  named 
Ditcher;  a  fourth — but  there  were  twenty  yarns.  Any- 
way she  got  this  man  Maiwand  into  her  clutches,  and  a 
heap  of  the  money  he  spent  went  to  her.  But  not  con- 
tent with  this,  she  formed  the  colossal  scheme  of  robbing 
him  of  every  stone  he  had  with  him ;  and  for  this  purpose, 
there  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind,  though  whether  the  evi- 
dence was  clear  enough  to  convict  I'll  not  say,  she  got  the 


122  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

help  of  a  man — half  English,  half  French,  and  the  rest 
diabolical — named  Colimbert." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  that  name  spelt  right,"  said 
Dessie,  interrupting  for  an  instant. 

"  Colimbert — Adolphe  Colimbert,"  he  replied,  spelling 
it.  "  I  never  saw  that  man,  but  from  all  accounts  he 
must  have  been  a  fitting  help-meet  for  such  a  woman  as 
Red  Delilah.  I  remember  a  clever  description  which 
spoke  of  him  as  having  the  pluck  of  a  d'Artagnan,  the 
beauty  of  a  Byron,  the  manners  of  a  Bayard,  and  the 
morals  of  an  Alsatian  bully.  Some  of  you  press  writers 
can  put  things  smartly,  I  know.  What  part  he  was  to 
take  in  the  robbery  is  not  clear ;  but  one  night  the  unfor- 
tunate Indian  was  found  by  his  servant  stabbed  through 
the  heart.  It  is  supposed  that  whoever  committed  the 
murder — and  there  is  no  doubt  the  woman  was  in  it — 
had  been  disturbed.  The  whole  place  was  in  confusion, 
as  if  an  exhaustive  search  had  been  made,  and  a  number 
of  the  jewels  were  put  together  in  readiness  for  being 
carried  off.  The  search  for  the  remainder  had  cost  the 
murderers  all,  or  nearly  all,  as  they  had  had  to  fly.  The 
only  really  valuable  thing  gone  was  this  Star  of  the 
Crescent;  and  one  theory  about  it  was  that  it  had  been 
broken  off  the  Crescent  before  by  the  Indian  himself,  in 
some  drunken  freak,  and  given  to  the  woman.  But  it  was 
never  found;  and  from  that  minute  to  this  neither  Red 
Delilah  nor  Colimbert  has  been  seen.  That's  the  mys- 
tery in  a  nutshell.  Is  it  any  good  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed.  It's  even  more  thrilling  than  I  had  ex- 
pected," said  Dessie,  forcing  a  smile  on  her  pale  face. 
"  It  has  interested  even  me.  But  what  became  of  the  rest 
of  the  jewels  ?  " 

a  Oh,  the  Government  interfered  when  the  truth  leaked 
out.  They  were  packed  up  and  sent  back  to  Rohilkund, 


The  Story  of  Red  Delilah  123 

and  the  people  were  so  indignant  there  that  the  Prince 
died  shortly  afterwards.  Popular  indignation  is  fatal 
sometimes  out  there.  The  three  rubies  were  not  sent 
back,  of  course.  They  were  never  found.  A  big  reward 
was  offered — I  think  £2,000 — and  afterwards  this  was 
increased  by  the  new  Prince's  people  privately,  and 
a  promise  given  that  no  questions  would  be  asked. 
•I  rather  fancy,  too,  that  some  negotiations  were  opened 
once  or  twice  with  some  individuals,  but  I  expect 
they  were  bogus.  Those  who  got  hold  of  th"e  rubies 
knew  how  to  keep  them,  or  get  rid  of  them  safely,  how- 
ever, and  it's  little  will  ever  be  heard  of  them  any  more." 

Dessie  rose,  thanked  her  friend,  renewed  her  promise 
to  send  a  copy  of  her  new  book  as  soon  as  it  came  out, 
and  left.  She  crossed  Parliament  Street,  went  through 
the  Horse  Guards,  and  into  St.  James's  Park.  There,  as 
soon  as  she  found  a  retired  seat,  she  sat  down  to  think. 

The  story  she  had  heard  would  probably  change  the 
whole  course  of  her  life. 

"  Red  Delilah  "  was  the  sister  to  whom  the  Count  de 
Montalt  had  referred,  and  the  girl's  new  and  latest  fear 
was  that  the  story  which  he  had  told  her  yesterday  was 
gathered  in  part  at  first  hand;  that  he  knew  from  per- 
sonal contact  with  her  sister — whose  proper  name  was 
Daphne — some  of  the  facts  which  he  had  included  in  the 
tale  which  he  had  told  her. 

Who  was  he? 

Dessie  had  understood  that  there  had  been  a  secret 
lover  in  the  background  behind  all  the  mad  excesses  of 
voluptuous  sensuality  into  which  her  sister  had  plunged ; 
but  she  had  never  known  his  name,  nor  heard  a  word 
describing  him.  Was  this  man,  de  Montalt,  that  lover? 
— that  Adolphe  Colimbert,  whose  name  she  had  had  spelt 
out  to  her? 


1 24  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

If  so,  what  would  happen  ? 

Dessie  herself  had  up  to  that  moment  had  no  knowl- 
edge whatever  of  the  circumstances  under  which  this 
wretched  Indian  had  come  by  his  death.  But  what  she 
did  know  filled  her  now  with  the  gravest  and  ugliest 
suspicions.  She  remembered  well  enough  how  Daphne 
had  come  suddenly  to  the  little  sea  village  where  she  and 
her  mother — who  was  then  dying — had  hidden  them- 
selves after  her  father's  death,  and  while  her  sister  was 
still  plunged  in  the  sea  of  London  vice.  She  had  told 
Dessie  that  there  had  been  great  trouble;  that  she  had 
abandoned  the  old  life  some  months  before ;  that  she  had 
been  converted  and  had  become  a  nurse.  It  was  in  a 
nurse's  uniform  that  she  had  come,  with  most  of  her 
wonderful  hair — a  golden  aureole  of  magnificent  hair — 
cut  short  and  the  remainder  dyed  black.  She  had  ex- 
plained it  by  saying  that  she  had  cut  it  off  as  part  of  her 
self-imposed  penance ;  and  that  she  had  regarded  the  loss 
of  it  as  one  of  the  outward  signs  that  she  and  her  past 
life  were  parted  for  all  time. 

But  now,  as  the  girl's  thoughts  travelled  back  and  she 
looked  at  the  facts  by  the  light  of  her  present  knowledge, 
and  her  greater  experience  of  the  world,  everything  wore 
a  different  aspect.  It  was  only  too  probable  that  the 
nurse's  uniform  and  the  dyed  hair  were  a  part  of  a  dis- 
guise, that  the  story  of  the  conversion  was  a  fable,  and 
that  the  fear  that  this  terrible  crime  might  be  discovered 
had  frightened  her  sister  to  lay  aside  the  old  life  and 
adopt  a  quiet  and  safe  one. 

It  was  true  she  had  never  returned  to  it,  and  for  years 
had  lived  a  life  which  so  far  as  Dessie  herself  knew  and 
believed,  had  been  good  and  right.  But  all  this  discovery 
had  so  distressed  and  indeed  so  dazed  her,  that  the  girl 
felt  her  faith  in  everything  and  everybody  was  shaken, 


The  Story  of  Red  Delilah          125 

A  sense  of  unreality  tinged  every  thought  and  feeling; 
and  as  she  sat  in  blank  despair  gazing  out  at  the  sun- 
lighted  scene  all  round  her,  it  seemed  as  though  she  had 
been  living  an  artificial  life  and  had  only  just  been  roused 
to  know  how  painful  and  distressing  was  the  reality. 

But  there  were  practical  steps  to  be  taken;  pressing 
difficulties  and  dangers  to  be  faced;  and  she  set  herself 
to  try  and  think  them  out. 

The  one  awful  and  commanding  terror  was  not  for 
herself,  but  for  her  sister. 

When  her  mother  died  she  had  extracted  a  promise 
that  Dessie  would  do  all  that  she  could  at  any  time  to  help 
the  sister  whom  both  believed  to  be  repentant.  Daphne 
was  the  elder  of  the  two  by  some  years ;  but  Dessie  had 
been  her  mother's  prop,  and  it  was  with  the  younger  girl 
that  the  mother  had  always  associated  the  idea  of 
strength.  She  had  often  thought  the  elder  might  need 
the  younger's  help.  It  was  for  the  dead  mother's  sake, 
therefore,  as  much  as  from  the  promptings  of  her  own 
heart,  that  Dessie  had  kept  in  touch  with  her  sister, 
through  the  address  of  the  Safe  Company.  All  this  was 
vivid  in  her  memory  now,  as  she  sat  appalled  by  the 
thought  of  her  sister's  danger. 

One  thing  was  clear.  She  could  see  it  as  plainly  as  one 
looking  across  a  calm  sea  toward  the  sun  can  see  the 
path  of  reflection. 

Daphne  must  be  saved  whatever  the  price. 

What  would  that  price  be?  As  she  asked  herself  the 
question,  she  shuddered  as  she  thought  of  the  man  who 
was  to  fix  it :  "  Secrecy  for  secrecy,"  he  had  said.  Was 
it  possible  to  pass  through  life  dependent  on  that  terrible 
man's  silence? — watching  the  nod  of  his  head  and  the 
beck  of  his  finger,  and  only  speaking  and  moving  in  ac- 
cordance with  his  permission?  She  was  to  sacrifice  her 


1 26  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

friend,  the  woman  who  had  risked  life  itself  for  her  sake ; 
to  see  her  wedded  to  a  man  whom  she  knew  to  be  a 
murderer  and  believed  to  be  infinitely  worse  than  many  a 
murderer. 

It  could  not  be.  There  must  be  some  way  of  escape 
from  that  degrading  slavery;  and  she  must  find  it.  She 
jumped  to  her  feet  as  if  the  mere  act  of  resolution  had 
given  her  energy;  and  at  the  same  instant  a  suggestion 
occurred  to  her,  and  she  was  surprised  and  irritated  that 
she  had  not  thought  of  it  before. 

SHe  must  go  and  see  her  sister  and  find  out  the  truth  for 
herself  at  first  hand.  Before  she  even  saw  her  lover,  and 
before  she  had  to  exchange  another  word  with  the  man 
who  thus  threatened  her,  she  would  see  Daphne. 

No  sooner  had  the  idea  suggested  itself  than  she  set 
to  work  to  carry  it  out,  and  started  to  walk  to  Victoria 
Station,  maturing  her  plan  as  she  went. 


CHAPTER  XII 
TOM  CHERITON'S  SUSPICIONS 

DAPHNE  MARLOW,  or  Nurse  Morland,  as  she  called 
herself,  was  in  the  infirmary  of  an  industrial  town  in  the 
north-east  of  Yorkshire — a  six  or  seven  hours'  ride  from 
London.  Dessie  would  have  to  remain  away  at  least  one 
night,  therefore,  and  certainly  to  give  some  explanation 
of  her  absence  to  Mrs.  Markham. 

Moreover,  Tom  Cheriton  was  coming  up  that  day,  and 
something  must  be  said  to  him  as  well.  That  she  should 
teii  the  facts  to  either  of  them  was  out  of  the  question ; 
and  the  difficulty  was  what  to  say.  She  resolved,  of 
course,  to  wire  short  messages  to  both;  and  to  send  a 
letter  in  addition  to  Tom.  She  went  to  Victoria  Station, 
because  that  might  help  to  keep  them  all  off  her  trail ;  as 
her  journey  had  to  be  made  by  the  Great  Northern  line 
from  King's  Cross. 

To  Mrs.  Markham  she  wired  that  a  business  commis- 
sion had  been  given  her  suddenly,  and  she  could  not  be 
back  that  night,  and  possibly  not  the  next.  To  Cheriton 
she  sent  two  wires.  The  first  to  his  uncle's  house  in 
Staffordshire,  asking  him  not  to  come  to  town  that  day 
if  he  had  not  already  started.  The  second  to  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham's  house,  saying  an  urgent  matter  had  arisen  and  she 
would  write  to  his  chambers. 

The  letter  was  a  scrawl  of  only  a  few  lines. 

"  Dearest,  I  am  in  a  little  trouble  that  I  cannot  write 
about.  I  have  to  leave  town  on  account  of  it,  and  am 
so  sorry  to  have  brought  you  up  to  town  to-day.  This  is 

127 


128  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

very  mysterious,  I  know ;  but  veryjmportant  all  the  same. 
All  day  yesterday  I  longed  for  you ;  and  now  that  you  are 
really  coming  I  am  not  stopping  to  see  you.  Don't  be 
angry.  You  will  not  when  I  tell  you  and  explain.  A 
thousand  kisses  from  your  most  eccentric,  D.  D. 

"  P.  S. — Trust  me.     I  am  full  of  wild  desire  to  see 

you." 

It  was  an  incoherent  letter;  but  she  had  not  time  to 
attempt  to  re-write  it;  so  she  dropped  it  into  the  letter 
box,  breathing  a  fervent  prayer  that  after  all,  the  parting 
was  only  for  a  day  or  so,  and  that  she  might  yet  be  able 
to  explain  everything.  Then  she  travelled  by  the  Dis- 
trict Railway  to  King's  Cross,  and  was  soon  speeding 
northward  in  the  express,  turning  over  and  over  in  her 
mind  all  the  events  which  in  a  few  days  had  made  up  this 
wild  whirl  of  change  in  her  life;  and  speculating  what 
would  be  the  outcome  of  this  interview  with  her  sister, 
whom  she  had  not  seen  for  six  years,  and  whose  safety 
she  was  now  perhaps  going  to  purchase  at  the  cost  of 
both  happiness  and  honour. 

But  looming  largest  in  her  mind  was  the  thought  of 
her  lover;  of  what  he  would  think  of  her  extraordinary 
absence;  of  his  love  for  her  and  hers  for  him;  of  the 
bar  that  was  thus  being  built  up  between  them;  and  of 
the  great  glooming  fear  that  she  was  to  lose  him.  It  was 
a  sad  journey  in  every  respect. 

To  all  in  Edgcumbe  Square  it  was  indeed  quite  unac- 
countable. 

"  Bolted !  "  was  the  Count's  thought ;  and  he  was  at 
first  immensely  pleased  at  it,  and  found  many  reasons  to 
account  for  her  taking  the  step.  But  when  he  had  con- 
sidered the  news  more  earnestly,  and  had  smoked  a  cigar 
over  it,  his  shrewdness  put  him  much  nearer  to  the  truth. 

"  She's  been  finding  out  more  about  the  jewels/'  he 


Tom  Cheriton's  Suspicions  1 29 

said  to  himself,  "  and  has  perhaps  found  out  something 
of  the  ugly  association  between  them  and  that  red  devil 
of  a  sister  of  hers.  I  wish  I  knew  what  she  had  dis- 
covered, and  could  see  the  best  use  to  make  of  it.  I 
shouldn't  be  surprised  if  she's  gone  off  to  her  sister  to 
find  out  from  her  what  right  I  have  to  the  jewels,  and 
whether  she  ought  to  give  them  up  to  me.  You  never 
know  what  these  conscientious  people  will  do.  That's 
the  worst  of  them.  If  it  was  anybody  without  a  con- 
science I  should  know  well  enough  that  her  first  instinct 
would  be  to  get  the  sister  to  clear  off  out  of  the  way. 
But  she  won't  do  that  yet,  because  I  haven't  shown  her 
that  card,  and  that  if  she  doesn't  hold  her  tongue  I'll  just 
hand  the  sister  over  to  the  police.  She  may  have  guessed 
it,  of  course,  if  she's  learnt  all  the  facts;  but — stay  a 
moment,  I  have  it." 

He  thought  intently  for  a  minute  and  then  decided. 
Sending  a  message  to  Mrs.  Markham  that  he  had  forgot- 
ten an  important  matter  and  would  return  in  an  hour's 
time,  he  left  the  house,  jumped  into  a  cab,  and  told  the 
man  to  drive  him  to  Sir  Edmund  Landale's. 

"  I  have  news  for  you,"  he  said  to  the  baronet ;  "  most 
important  and  urgent.  Things  are  quickening  to  a  crisis. 
Miss  Merrion  and  -I  have  had  a  desperate  quarrel — about 
you.  I  was  endeavouring  to  further  your  wishes,  and 
the  result  is  that  she  has  changed  round — you  know  the 
fickleness  of  a  woman — and  vows  there  is  no  villainy  I 
would  not  commit,  and  only  a  few  I  have  not  committed." 
He  laughed  pleasantly.  "  That  comes  of  her  associating 
me  with  you,  I  suppose.  Anyway,  that  I  am  wishing  to 
marry  Mrs.  Markham  for  her  money,  and  am  an  un- 
scrupulous fortune-hunter,  was  the  smallest  charge  she 
had  against  me,  and  about  the  pleasantest  compliment  she 
could  pay  me.  Heigho !  girls  are  hard  to  deal  with." 


130  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  When  was  this  ?  "  asked  the  baronet. 

"  Only  yesterday,  after  I  saw  you ;  and  I  have  comes 
therefore,  to  tell  you  in  all  candour  and  fairness  that, 
directly  and  personally,  I  can  not  only  be  no  help  to  you, 
but  that  if  you  want  to  avoid  provoking  her  distrust  com- 
pletely, while  she  remains  in  her  present  cantankerous 
temper,  you  had  better  not  let  her  dream  that  you  and  I 
have  even  seen  each  other." 

"  But  you  say  the  quarrel  was  because  you  were  trying 
to  help  my  interests  ?  " 

"  What  else  should  I  say,  if  I  am  to  speak  the  truth  ?  " 
he  answered,  sharply,  irritated  at  having  been  caught  in 
so  glaring  an  inconsistency.  "  I  was  urging  her  to  have 
no  more  to  do  with  this  Cheriton.  But  what  is  it  to  me 
whom  she  marries  ?  Do  you  think  if  I  had  not  had  your 
cause  in  my  thoughts  I  should  have  bothered  to  in- 
terfere? Not  I.  But  I  have  brought  on  myself  a 
deadly  quarrel  with  the  one  woman  for  whom  my  fu- 
ture wife  really  cares.  I  wish  I  had  never  heard  a 
word  of  your  story  or  seen  you;  and  she  had  married 
this  stolid  barrister  of  hers."  He  assumed  the  appear- 
ance of  so  much  anger  and  implied  so  strongly  that  the 
fault  lay  with  the  baronet  that  the  latter  was  a  little 
nervous. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  began,  when  the  Count  interrupted. 

"  Sorry !  What  the is  the  good  of  your  sorrow  ? 

It  won't  mend  my  quarrel  with  my  future  wife's  dearest 
friend,  will  it?  Or  stop  all  the  infernal  unpleasantness 
and  trouble  and  tears,  and  all  the  rest  of  it?  If  it  would 
I'd  be  sorry  with  you.  Sorry,  indeed !  "  with  an  em- 
phasis of  contempt  on  the  word. 

He  took  out  a  cigarette  and  lighted  it  with  a  sugges- 
tion of  viciousness  in  the  action — as  though  venting  his 
anger  upon  it.  The .  baronet  was  a  nervous  man  with 


Tom  Cheriton's  Suspicions  131 

offier  men,  and  watched  him  rather  abashed  by  his 
blustrous  energy  and  temper. 

"  Excuse  my  manner,"  said  the  Count  at  length.  He 
had  been  keenly  watching  the  effect  of  his  words  on  the 
other,  and  wished  to  master  him.  "  I  am  the  devil  him- 
self when  I'm  roused — and  this  thing  has  shaken  me  up 
deucedly.  But  don't  think  I  mean  going  back  on  my 
word  to  you  yesterday.  If  I  could  have  seen  what  would 
happen  I  wouldn't  have  promised  my  help,  I  admit.  But 
once  given,  I  keep  my  word,  come  what  may.  This  girl 
has  chosen  to  quarrel  with  me.  So  be  it.  She  must  take 
the  consequences.  She'll  repent,  not  I.  And  it's  because 
•I  mean  her  to  that  I'm  here  now.  She's  bolted  from  Lon- 
don  " 

"  Bolted !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  as  much  astonished 
as  de  Montalt  intended  him  to  be.  "  What  do  you  mean  ? 
Where?" 

"Bolted,"  repeated  the  other.  "Mind,  I  don't  mean 
bolted  to  her  lover;  but  actually  bolted  from  him.  Lis- 
ten," he  said,  and  then  thinking  he  had  reduced  Lan- 
dale  to  a  condition  of  confusion,  he  told  him  his  plan. 
"  You  know  that  ugly  tale  about  her  past ;  and  you  know 
there  was  a  sister  with  a  very  shaky  history.  Well,  things 
seem  to  be  worse  in  that  quarter  than  she  thought — I  let 
out  some  truths  indeed  which  I  had  much  better  have 
kept  to  myself — and  my  opinion  is  she's  bolted  down  to 
che  sister  to  find  out  all  the  truth  for  herself.  Now,  mark 
this:  You  want  to  have  a  hold  on  her.  The  secret  of 
that  sister's  past  will  give  you  what  you  want.  I'll  tell 
it  some  day,  but  not  now — and  if  you  want  to  gain  the 
end  you  have  in  view  you  can  do  it." 

He  stopped  and  glanced  keenly  at  his  companion, 
whose  face  wore  a  puzzled,  undecided,  hesitating  expres- 
sion. 


132  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  "  fie  asked  at  length. 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  do  anything,"  was  the  answer, 
with  vicious  emphasis  on  the  word.  "  Do  you  want  to 
marry  Miss  Merrion — or  to  have  her  in  your  power? 
Or  would  you  rather  see  her  in  another  man's  arms?- 
That's  the  question." 

"  You  know  the  answer  to  it,"  replied  Landale  with  the 
quickness  of  jealousy. 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you  how  to  do  it.  Go  down  to  Mid- 
dlesbridge  by  the  first  train  that  starts  from  King's  Cross ; 
find  out  where  Nurse  Morland,  of  the  Middle  Riding 
Infirmary,  lives,  and  watch  her  every  movement.  Nurse 
Morland  is  Daphne  Marlow,  and  her  sister  has  gone 
down,  either  to  get  her  out  of  the  way,  or  to  induce  her 
to  take  some  step  which  may  help  to  shake  off  the  pOwer 
which  anyone  can  exercise  over  Dorothy  Marlow,  who 
knows  where  a  hand  can  be  laid  on  Daphne's  shoulder. 
Be  down  there  by  accident.  Know  nothing  whatever. 
If  you  meet  Miss  Merrion,  don't  let  her  have  a  thought 
that  it  is  not  accidental.  But  don't  let  the  other  escape — 
and  mind,  she's  artful  enough  to  be  the  devil's  wife. 
Lastly,  don't  let  a  syllable  escape  you  to  suggest  that  you 
have  ever  heard  of  me." 

The  baronet  put  a  number  of  questions,  which  the  other 
man  either  answered  or  fenced  with  as  he  thought  best, 
giving  any  reply  that  suited  his  purpose,  without  the  least 
regard  to  its  truth ;  and  in  the  end  Sir  Edmund,  though 
profoundly  disliking  the  task,  consented  to  go. 

"  Why  not  have  her  watched  in  the  ordinary  way  ? 
There  are  thousands  of  men  who  do  this  sort  of  thing 
cheap  enough — and  much  better  than  I  possibly  can," 
he  protested  half  a  dozen  times. 

"  For  the  simple  reason  that  it  isn't  safe  to  let  a  single 
soul  but  you  and  me  have  a  suspicion  that  she  is  not  what 


Tom  Cheriton's  Suspicions  133 

she  says — Nurse  Morland.  This  is  necessary  for  her 
sister's  sake.  The  least  suspicion  in  an  outsider's  knowl- 
edge, and  our  hold  would  be  gone  for  good." 

This  consideration  prevailed  in  the  end;  and  all  was 
settled  when  the  Count  drove  back  to  Edgcumbe  Square, 
chuckling  to  himself  at  the  adroit  use  he  had  made  of  the 
baronet. 

He  found  Mrs.  Markham  very  curious  as  to  the  errand 
on  which  he  had  been  away,  and  he  pacified  her  with  a 
tale  that  he  had  ordered  some  flowers  to  be  sent  to  her, 
and  had  forgotten  to  call  as  arranged  to  decide  a  point  in 
regard  to  their  selection. 

"  You  were  not  with  me,  child,  and  I  thought  I  could 
not  better  fill  in  the  time  than  by  doing  something  to 
please  you." 

"  We  could  have  called  together  about  them,"  said  the 
widow,  who  was  sorry  to  have  missed  an  opportunity 
of  shopping  in  the  company  of  her  handsome  lover. 

"  True,  but  I  wanted  them  to  be  a  surprise.  And  now 
you  have  got  everything  out  of  me.  When  you  ask  me 
anything,  Dora,  out  must  come  the  whole  truth,  whether 
the  thing  be  grave  or  trivial.  You  have  spoilt  my  little 
plot  altogether,"  he  said,  smiling,  and  kissing  her. 

She  believed  him  implicitly,  of  course,  and  was  flattered 
at  the  little  attention  which  the  imaginary  act  implied. 

"  I  can't  help  wondering  where  on  earth  that  child 
Dessie  has  got  to,"  she  said,  after  a  pause.  "  It's  such 
an  extraordinary  thing  to  have  done." 

"  She  is  a  woman  journalist,  Dora.  There  is  an  ex- 
planation of  any  amount  of  eccentricity  in  that." 

"Not  in  the  least.  She's  the  most  level-headed  little 
soul  on  the  face  of  the  earth — at  least  she  used  to  be." 
She  made  the  qualification,  remembering  the  girl's  unac- 
countable dislike  of  de  Montalt. 


1 34  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  Then  in  that  case,  why  not  accept  her  explanation  ? 
She  implies  she  has  gone  away  on  business." 

"  But  she  doesn't  say  where.  Besides,  she's  been  so 
peculiar  the  last  few  days — ever  since  we  came  to  town. 
I  don't  understand  her  a  bit,"  and  she  frowned  and  shook 
her  head  in  perplexity. 

The  subject  did  not  interest  her  lover  just  then.  He 
had  for  his  part  exhausted  the  possibilities  of  the  girl's 
action,  had  taken  such  precautions  as  he  could  to  guard 
against  its  interfering  with  his  plans;  and  thus  Mrs. 
Markham's  vapid  speculations  bored  him.  There  was 
another  subject  he  had  much  nearer  at  heart;  the  date 
for  their  marriage,  and  he  had  resolved  to  press  this 
forward  now  with  all  reasonable  speed. 

He  approached  the  subject  again  now,  taking  it  up 
where  he  had  left  it  on  the  previous  night ;  and  after  say- 
ing that  he  had  had  letters  which  would  necessitate  his 
leaving  England  for  a  time  very  shortly,  suggested  that 
he  would  let  her  decide  whether  the  marriage  should 
take  place  before  his  departure  or  after  his  return. 

The  widow  on  her  side  was  all  eagerness,  and  they 
were  in  close  consultation  when  Tom  Cheriton  was  shown 
in. 

He  glanced  round  the  room  in  evident  disappointment 
at  not  seeing  Dessie  there,  and  his  first  question  was  for 
her. 

"It  is  most  unaccountable,  Mr.  Cheriton,"  said  Mrs. 
Markham.  "  But  first  let  me  make  you  two  gentlemen 
known  to  one  another,"  and  she  introduced  them.  The 
impression  which  each  formed  of  the  other  was  exceed- 
ingly unfavourable. 

"  A  scoundrel,"  was  Cheriton 's  inward  verdict.  "  A 
bulldog,"  was  the  other  man's  thought,  while  both  mur- 
mured a  word  or  two  of  civility. 


Tom  Cheriton's  Suspicions  135 

"  There  is  a  telegram  for  you,  Mr.  Cheriton,"  said 
Mrs.  Markham,  handing  it  to  him.  "  We've  no  doubt 
it's  from  Dessie."  He  tore  it  open  quickly,  and  a  glance 
told  him  the  contents. 

"  Strange,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  "  She  brought  me 
up  on  purpose  to  see  her.  Do  you  know  anything  of  this, 
sir  ?  "  he  asked  de  Montalt,  abruptly  with  a  sharp  keen 
glance. 

"  I  ?    Certainly  not.    How  is  that  possible  ?  " 

"  Anything  is  possible,  as  an  Old  Bailey  practice  soon 
teaches  you,"  returned  Cheriton,  brusquely.  "  What  is 
your  opinion  of  her  sudden  step,  Mrs.  Markham?  You 
know  her  well." 

"  I  can't  understand  it  at  all,"  was  the  reply.  Mrs. 
Markham  was  nettled  at  Cheriton's  tone  toward  her  lover. 
"  She  tells  me  in  a  telegram  that  it's  a  sudden  commission 
of  work.  But  I'm  bound  to  say  I  can't  think  that's  all. 
She's  been  very  peculiar  all  the  time  she's  been  here." 

"  Peculiar  ?  "  echoed  Cheriton,  pricking  up  his  ears. 
"  In  what  way  do  you  mean  peculiar?  " 

"  Out  of  sorts.  You  know  what  I  mean.  Not  like 
herself.  Dull,  low  spirited.  I  thought  she  was  ill.  I 
found  her  looking  very  faint  and  ill  once.  You  remem- 
ber— yesterday,  Godef roi  ?  " 

"  She  explained  that  was  due  to  Mr.  Cheriton's  ab- 
sence," said  the  Count,  not  liking  Cheriton's  manner  at 
all. 

"  Dull,  low-spirited,  and  not  like  herself.  I  suppose 
that  wasn't  the  welcome  she  gave  when  she  first  met  you, 
Mrs.  Markham  ?  "  he  asked,  in  his  persuasive  cross-exam- 
ining smile  and  manner. 

"Oh,  no/'  replied  the  widow.  "That's  the  curious 
part.  She  seemed  all  right  then.  It  was  not  till  that 
evening  or  the  next  day  that  I  noticed  the  change." 


136  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  She  was  all  right,  Mrs.  Markham ;  for  I  saw  her  an 
hour  or  two  before  she  came  to  you,  and  she  was  al- 
together in  her  usual  spirits."  He  paused,  and  then 
wheeling  round  on  de  Montalt,  he  repeated  his  question. 

"  And  are  you  quite  sure  still  that  you  know  nothing  at 
all  of  the  cause  of  this,  absence,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  have  replied  once.  I  am  not  accustomed  to  be  ques- 
tioned in  this  way.  I  am  not  responsible  for  this  young 
lady's  eccentricities." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see.  You  will  excuse  me  now,  Mrs. 
Markham.  Dessie  says  in  her  wire  that  she  is  writing 
to  my  chambers,  and  I  will  go  there.  I  am  not  at  all 
satisfied ;  and  must  look  into  things  at  once."  With  that, 
he  left,  shaking  hands  with  Mrs.  Markham  and  bowing 
very  stiffly  to  her  companion. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AN    IMPORTANT    INTERVIEW 

WHEN  Dessie  reached  Middlesbridge  she  was  a  little 
at  a  loss  to  know  how  best  to  get  to  see  her  sister.  She 
did  not  know  whether  the  nurses  lived  in  the  Infirmary, 
or  even  whether  her  sister  was  on  the  regular  staff. 
There  had  been  no  communication  between  them  for  a 
long  time  past,  and  the  last  letter  had  only  stated  the  fact 
baldly  that  Daphne  was  going  to  join  the  nursing  staff 
of  the  Infirmary. 

Middlesbridge  was  a  dirty  industrial  town,  the  centre 
of  the  Nortfiern  iron  trade,  with  a  dirty  river,  along  the 
southern  bank  of  which  lay  the  chief  works,  which  kept 
the  Infirmary  well  stocked  with  bad  "  smashes  " — as  ac- 
cidents to  the  workers  were  called — and  gave  the  hospi- 
tal quite  a  reputation  as  a  place  where  varied  and  con- 
stant practice  in  surgery  could  be  gained. 

But  'Nurse  Morland  had  gone  to  it  for  reasons  alto- 
gether unconnected  with  nursing  experience.  It  lay  off 
the  highway  of  the  world,  and  only  the  barest  handful  of 
the  sixty  or  seventy  thousand  of  useful  human  beings 
who  peopled  the  hive  knew  anything  of  life  outside  it. 
It  was  a  safer  refuge  than  a  desert. 

Dessie  found  her  way  on  foot  to  the  Infirmary,  and  was 
going  to  call  and  ask  for  her  sister  when  it  occurred  to 
her  that  she  Had  better  send  her  a  letter  to  prepare  her 
for  the  visit.  A  sudden  meeting,  if  a  stranger  chanced 

137 


138  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

to  be  present,  might  call  forth  some  word  or  sign  which 
might  lead  to  embarrassing  consequences. 

She  turned  back,  therefore,  and  entering  a  shop  wrote 
a  very  brief  line  saying  that  an  extraordinary  need  had 
arisen  compelling  her  to  come  to  Middlesbridge,  and  ask- 
ing her  to  say  when  they  could  meet  and  where.  She 
was  to  send  word  by  the  bearer. 

She  got  a  boy  to  take  the  note  and  wait  for  an  answer, 
and  she  watched  him  as  he  went  up  the  semicircular 
carriage-drive  that  was  in  front  of  the  building,  and  saw 
him  deliver  the  letter  to  the  porter.  After  a  long  interval 
he  returned  and  gave  her  a  note. 

"  Call  here  in  an  hour." 

Then  the  girl  remembered  that  she  had  yet  to  find 
some  place  to  stay  at.  She  went  back  first  to  the  station 
to  find  out  how  late  she  could  leave,  in  the  hope  that  the 
interview  with  her  sister  would  be  over  in  time  to  let  her 
leave  and  travel  by  night,  and  having  made  a  note  of 
the  train  times  she  went  away  to  get  something  to  eat. 
She  felt  faint  and  weary,  and  remembered  that  she  had 
had  nothing  since  breakfast  at  Edgcumbe  Square.  Ex- 
citement had  made  her  forget  food;  but  she  compelled 
herself  now  to  eat  a  substantial  meal,  and  then  made  some 
inquiries  as  to  an  hotel. 

Punctually  at  the  expiration  of  the  hour  she  returned 
to  the  infirmary ;  and  on  asking  for  Nurse  Morland,  she 
was  shown  up  to  a  room,  where,  instead  of  her  sister,  the 
matron,  a  very  sharp-eyed,  clever,  quick-looking,  little 
woman,  received  her,  and  poured  in  a  volley  of  questions 
shrewdly  and  somewhat  brusquely  put  to  ascertain  her 
business. 

Dessie  listened  quietly,  and  answered  very  generally, 
parrying  the  questions  deftly.  She  was  moved  by  a  sort 
of  antagonism  until  her  questioner  let  out  that  her  mo- 


An  Important  Interview  139 

live  was  a  fear  lest  Dessie  had  perhaps  come  to  try  and 
take  Nurse  Morland  away,  while  the  matron  did  not  want 
to  lose  her. 

"  You're  the  first  friend  that's  been  to  see  her  for  a 
very  long  time,  you  know,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head 
and  looking  as  though  the  fact  was  very  suspicious ;  "  and 
I  think  well  enough  of  her  to  wish  to  keep  her." 

"  I  haven't  the  remotest  thought  of  enticing  her  away," 
answered  Dessie,  smiling  at  the  matron's  manner.  "  It  is 
many  years  since  I  saw  Nurse  Morland.  We  are  very 
old  friends;  and  it  occurred  to  me  to  come  and  see  her, 
all  unexpectedly." 

At  this  moment  Nurse  Morland  entered  the  room.  A 
quick  glance  shot  from  her  eyes  to  Bessie's  face,  and  the 
latter  read  it  as  a  warning.  Then,  in  a  somewhat  formal 
manner,  but  in  a  voice  of  exquisite  sweetness  and  depth, 
she  said,  putting  out  her  hand : 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you  to  come  and  see  me,  Miss 
Merrion.  It  is  a  long  time  indeed  since  we  met.  Will 
you  come  with  me  to  my  little  room?  The  matron  will 
excuse  you."  There  was  a  quiet  air  of  masterful  force 
in  every  syllable  and  action;  and  without  another  word 
the  two  sisters  left  the  room  together.  Murmuring  such 
commonplaces  as  two  friends  might  speak  who  had  not 
met  for  some  time,  they  went  to  a  small  room,  at  the  end 
of  a  long  corridor^  in  which  were  two  beds;  and  there, 
as  soon  as  they  were  alone,  the  elder  sister  let  drop  from 
her  face  the  mask  of  impassiveness  she  had  worn. 

She  shut  and  locked  the  door  carefully. 

"  All  ears  are  on  the  strain  for  gossip  and  scandal 
here,  and  every  tongue  in  the  place  is  always  itching  to 
wag.  Speak  low,  as  somebody's  sense  of  duty  may  bring 
them  to  the  keyhole ;  and  now,  tell  me,  Dorothy,  what  in 
heaven's  name  this  surprise  visit  means  ?  " 


140  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

Dessie  looked  at  her  sister  with  emotions,  in  which  the 
old  sisterly  affection,  admiration  for  her  beauty,  as  con- 
spicuous as  ever  now,  and  astonishment  at  her  present 
conduct  were  mingled. 

"  You  have  not  kissed  me,  Daphne,"  she  said. 

"  You  have  not  come  all  this  way  merely  to  be  kissed," 
answered  the  elder,  with  a  gesture  of  impatience  and 
temper.  But  the  words  had  scarcely  left  her  lips  be- 
fore she  threw  her  arms  round  Dessie  and  embraced 
her  with  vehement  energy,  twining  her  strong  arms 
round  the  girl  and  pressing  hot,  fierce  kisses  on  her 
cheeks  and  lips.  Dessie  was  almost  frightened  at  this 
tempestuous  change;  but  the  love  in  her  own  heart  was 
roused,  and  on  her  side  she  answered  the  caresses  with 
fervent  warmth.  And  in  this  way  some  time  was  passed, 
the  two  sisters  locked  in  each  other's  arms,  and  speaking 
scarcely  a  word. 

At  length  the  elder  broke  away  and  sat  down  on  the 
bed  opposite  that  on  which  Dessie  sat,  and  held  the  girl's 
two  hands  in  her  own. 

"  What  lamentable  weakness,"  she  cried,  impetuously. 
"  And  yet  how  sweet  to  be  weak  sometimes,  and  not  al- 
ways to  lock  away,  as  in  an  iron  chest,  every  natural 
desire,  prompting,  and  thought,  and  be  for  ever  playing  a 
part.  Daphne  Marlow  had  better  never  have  been  born 
than  to  be  for  ever  nothing  but  Nurse  Morland." 

Dessie  sat  watching  her  sister  as  she  spoke,  thinking 
what  a  magnificent  and  altogether  strange  woman  she 
had  become.  Daphne  was  tall  for  a  woman,  with  an 
exquisitely  proportioned  figure,  the  strength  and  sup- 
pleness of  which  had  been  well  developed  by  her  calling. 
But  it  was  her  face  and  head  that  compelled  attention. 
The  features  were  all  regular  and  in  perfect  harmony 
with  the  shape  of  the  face  which  tapered  from  a  broad 


An  Important  Interview  141 

and  rather  high  brow  to  the  chin.  Everything  suggested 
force,  thought,  and  self-reliance.  The  colouring,  too, 
was  as  remarkable  as  the  pose  of  the  head  was  beautiful. 
The  flesh  was  white,  with  the  clear,  deep  whiteness  of 
alabaster,  and  the  striking  pallor  was  relieved  by  lips 
of  a  rich  red,  lustrous  eyes  and  heavy  brows  and  lashes 
all  of  a  deep  blackness.  Above  this  remarkable  face  was 
a  wealth  of  hair,  pure  red  gold  in  hue,  of  extraordinary 
fineness  and  quite  wonderful  profusion.  She  had  long 
since  ceased  to  dye  it,  and  had  allowed  it  to  grow  again. 
Even  gathered  up  under  the  sober  cap  of  the  nurse,  the 
hair  suggested  that  crown  of  woman's  glory  which  the 
hair  is  to  certain  women. 

It  was  her  hair  that  she  had  cut  away  in  the  old  days, 
as  the  outward  symbol  of  her  severance  from  that  world 
in  which  she  had  played  so  conspicuous  a  part  to  achieve 
only  such  a  dazzling  fall. 

Daphne's  experienced  eyes  were  also  reading  the  state 
of  her  sister's  mind  as  reflected  in  her  face,  where  she 
saw  the  evidence  of  trouble  or  illness. 

"  You're  not  as  strong  as  you  used  to  be,  Dorothy," 
she  said,  when  the  girl  did  not  reply  promptly  to  her 
former  remark. 

"•I  am  well  enough  bodily.  I  had  a  bad  attack  of 
typhus  fever  a  few  months  ago,  and  have  had  a  little 
difficulty  in  getting  back  my  strength.  It  is  not  my 
body  that  is  suffering.  There  is  trouble." 

"  Of  course.  You  wouldn't  come  without  a  cause  cf 
that  kind,  I  presume,"  was  the  impetuous,  half-angry 
reply.  "  What  is  the  trouble  ?  Do  you  want  me  to  help 
you,  or  do  you  come  to  disturb  me?  "  The  paroxysm  of 
affection  had  entirely  passed  from  her.  She  loosed  her 
sister's  hand,  and  sat  with  a  half -aggressive,  half-an- 
tagonistic air. 


142  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  I  have  come  on  what  may  prove  to  be  a  very  sad 
errand,"  began  Dessie,  and  her  sister  interrupted  her 
with  a  short,  half-satirical  laugh. 

"  That's  how  goody-goody  people  always  begin  when 
they  have  something  particularly  unpleasant  to  say  or 
do.  Look  here,"  she  continued,  with  a  quick  change  of 
tone,  speaking  with  voluble  energy.  "  Hear  this.  For 
six  years  or  seven  years  you  have  never  troubled  your- 
self to  come  near  me.  I  have  lived  a  puritanical  existence 
that  any  saint  might  be  proud  of.  Not  a  soul  has  a 
suspicion  that  my  heart  is  not  bursting  with  charity  and 
love  for  the  noble  calling  which  this  betokens  " — touch- 
ing her  uniform — "  not  a  soul  believes  that  I  do  not  re- 
gard it  as  my  mission  from  God — a  mission  to  minister 
to  the  sick — ugh.  Wait  a  minute;  let  me  finish.  I  am 
content ;  or,  at  least,  so  far  content  that  I  haven't  laid 
hands  on  my  own  life.  And  what  is  more,  I  see  relief 
opening  out  ahead  of  me.  I  am  going  to  be  married. 
Do  you  understand?  To  marry  a  man  who  is  in 
love  with  my  face  and  figure;  my  beautiful  body;  and 
with  the  saintly  mind  that  inspires  the  nurse's  calling! 
He  is  a  good  man,  and  I  love  him,  too,  in  a  way.  Now, 
mark  me,  if  a  word  that  you  have  to  say  will  interfere 
with  that  prospect,  don't  utter  it.  Go  away ;  leave  it  un- 
said. Go  and  forget  me;  put  me  out  of  your  thoughts 
again.  Pack  the  memory  of  me  away  on  the  shelf  in 
your  mind,  where  you  store  the  ugly  things  you  never 
want  to  think  of  again.  But  don't  venture  to  say,  or  even 
to  think,  a  word  that  is  in  the  least  likely  to  come  between 
me  and  my  purpose.  I  won't  endure  it.  I  won't."  She 
spoke  almost  fiercely  at  the  close,  and  what  she  said 
made  Dessie  so  thoughtful  that  she  scarce  knew  how  to 
begin. 

"Ah,  I'm  glad  I  warned  you  in  time,"  said  Daphne, 


An  Important  Interview  143 

again,  seeing  her  sister  pause.  "  I  mean  it.  Every  word, 
and  more.  I  won't  hear  a  word.  You  know  what  you 
told  me  after  mother  died.  You  know  your  promise. 
To  do  anything  and  everything  in  your  power  to  help  me 
to  the  right  way.  Well,  I  vow  to  you  " — she  spoke  now 
hurriedly,  and  with  concentrated  and  almost  bitter  in- 
tensity— "  if  you  do  this  now,  I  will  toss  aside  in  an  in- 
stant the  whole  solemn  lying  of  the  last  seven  years,  and 
get  back  to  the  old  daring  life,  the  desire  for  which  burns 
always  in  me  like  an  unslakable  fire." 

"  That  is  not  the  attitude  of  a  strong  woman,"  said 
Dessie,  quietly. 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  it  is  the  resolve  of  a  determined  one. 
I  am  only  warning  you.  You  have  come  to  me,  not  I  to 
you.  I  am  only  telling  you  what  the  consequences  will  be 
if  you  interfere.  I  have  been  strong,  God  knows,  for 
seven  years.  Jacob  never  served  to  win  Rachel  as  I 
have  served  to  win  respectability;  and  now  you  come 
and  threaten  everything.  Go  away.  Rather  than  breathe 
a  word,  go  away  now,  with  every  syllable  unspoken.  I'll 
take  the  risk  of  your  silence.  It's  easier  to  fall  straight 
from  a  fool's  paradise  into  hell  than  to  climb  the 
weary  treadmill  of  this  dull,  dreary,  sordid,  earthly 
round." 

"It  is  out  of  the  question  for  me  to  go  away  without 
saying  what  I  have  come  to  say,"  answered  Dessie, 
quietly.  "  But  I  certainly  have  not  come  to  dissuade  you 
from  taking  any  course  you  believe  best  for  you.  -I  am 
compelled  to  reopen  the  past,  however,  and  I  am  afraid 
that  I  must  hurt  you.  Tell  me  first,  do  you  know  this 
man  ?  "  She  put  into  her  hands  the  photograph  of  the 
Count  de  Montalt. 

The  moment  Daphne's  eyes  fell  on  the  handsome,  self- 
confident  face,  it  was  clear  that  she  recognised  him. 


144  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  What  is  this  man  to  you  ?  "  she  asked  Dessie,  her 
whole  manner  altered. 

"  Personally,  nothing.  But  he  is  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried to  a  dear  friend  of  mine — one  who  saved  my  life  in 
the  illness  I  told  you  of  just  now." 

"  Then  let  them  marry,  and  do  you  keep  out  of  his 
way  for  the  rest  of  your  life.  No  more  terrible  man 
breathes  than  that."  She  frowned  at  the  face  with  a 
gesture  of  hate.  "  Leave  him  to  go  his  course  alone,  and 
keep  out  of  his  way,  if  you  value  anything  you  possess 
from  your  life  downwards." 

"  I  cannot  do  that,"  answered  Dessie.  "  And  it  is  be- 
cause -I  cannot  that  I  am  here." 

"  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  If  you  attempt 
to  struggle  with  that  man,  you  will  lose  as  surely  as  you 
are  a  woman  and  he  a  man." 

"  Nevertheless  I  will  not  flinch,  if  you  can  answer  my 
questions  satisfactorily,"  answered  Dessie  firmly.  "  What 
has  he  ever  been  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  shall  not  tell  you." 

"  Has  he  any  hold  over  you  ?  Could  he  do  you  any 
harm?" 

"  He  could  never  find  me." 

"  But  if  he  could  find  you?  " 

"  No,  none." 

"  You  mean  that,  Daphne  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  cross-examine  me  like  this  ?  "  asked  the 
other,  angrily.  "  Don't  I  tell  you  ?  Shall  I  protest,  and 
mouth  and  swear  it  ?  " 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  "  asked  Dessie,  after  a  pause. 

"  If  he  is  to  marry  your  friend,  you  must  know  that 
well  enough." 

"I  know  him  now  as  the  Count  de  Montalt.    He  has 


An  Important  Interview  145 

once  before  crossed  my  path  as  Rolande  Lespard;  what 
was  he  called  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  not  tell  you.  It  would  open  up  a  sealed  chap- 
ter." 

"  As  you  will.  Then  I  will  tell  you.  He  was  known 
as  Adolphe  Colimbert,  half  English,  half  French,  and  was 
mixed  up  in  a  hundred  wild  and  lawless  deeds.  You  need 
not  say  more  about  him  unless  you  like ;  but  one  thing  I 
ask  you  to  tell  me  fully  in  all  confidence — How  came  the 
Indian  envoy  Maiwand,  by  his  death?  And  how  did  the 
Star  of  the  Rohilkund  Crescent  get  into  Colimbert's 
possession  ?  " 

The  questions  were  asked  in  a  quiet  matter  of  fact 
tone,  but  the  effect  of  them  upon  the  elder  sister  was 
startling  enough.  She  sat  with  her  face  hard  set,  her  lips 
pressed  together,  and  her  brows  knitted,  while  her  breath 
seemed  to  come  from  a  bosom  labouring  with  emotion. 

"  Where  did  you  get  to  learn  anything  of  this  ?  "  she 
asked,  after  a  long  pause. 

"  By  a  chain  of  coincidences  that  are  as  strange  as  I 
fear  they  are  dangerous.  When  I  first  threw  aside 
the  old  life  and  started  as  Bessie  Merrion,  I  had  an 
adventure  at  Birmingham  station  which  resulted  in  my 
getting  possession  of  the  jewels."  She  described  briefly 
what  had  happened  and  the  letters  she  had  received.  "  I 
thought  little  about  them  till  quite  recently,  when  in  the 
man  my  friend,  Mrs.  Markham,  was  going  to  marry,  I 
recognised  the  murderer  Lespard.  I  taxed  him  with 
it " 

"  Oh !  you  little  fool,"  cried  Daphne,  involuntarily. 
"  It  was  as  much  as  your  life  was  worth." 

"  It  was.  He  tried  to  take  it  the  very  next  day ;  and 
then  stole  some  papers  which  gave  him  a  clue  to  my 


146  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

identity.  After  that,  within  a  few  hours,  he  had  all  our 
history,  and  he  threatened  me  with  exposure.  I  asked 
him  then  how  he  got  possession  of  the  jewels,  and  he 
answered  me  in  a  way  that  frightened  me.  This  morn- 
ing I  myself  went  to  Scotland  Yard  in  my  character  of  a 
journalist,  and  the  whole  story  was  told  to  me  by  the 
very  inspector  who  had  the  matter  in  hand  at  the  time." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  How  do  you  mean  that  I  am  im- 
plicated ? " 

"  You  know  how  you  were  called  at  the  time.  The 
inspector  told  me  plainly  that  you  were  suspected  of 
having  formed  the  plot  to  get  the  whole  of  the  Indian's 
jewels  from  him ;  that  you  were  suspected  of  having 

killed  him;  and  that  immediately  after  the  m the 

deed,  you  disappeared,  and  had  never  been  seen  since. 
Adolphe  Colimbert  disappeared  in  the  same  way,  and  has 
also  never  been  found.  The  belief  was  that  you  had 
gone  away  together — but  I  know  different." 

Daphne  Marlow  sat  with  bowed  head  while  the  story 
was  being  told,  as  if  not  daring  to  look  her  sister  in  the 
face.  At  the  close  she  looked  up. 

"  Do  you  believe  me  guilty  of  that  ?  "  she  asked,  as  if 
challenging  her  sister. 

"  That  is  the  very  question  I  have  come  to  ask.  If  not, 
then  this  man's  threats  to  expose  me  are  empty.  He 
will  probably  threaten  next  to  denounce  you.  But  I 
shall  know  that  to  be  an  empty  boast  also.  Will  you  tell 
me  the  truth?" 

Dessie  had  purposely  spoken  in  a  perfectly  unimpas- 
sioned  voice,  unwilling  to  add  to  what  she  felt  must  be 
her  sister's  intense  agitation;  but  her  own  emotions  at 
that  moment  passed  beyond  her  control,  and  after  a  pause, 
in  which  she  waited  breathlessly  for  an  answer  that  did 
not  come,  she  put  her  hand  on  her  sister's  and  cried : 


"Tell  me  the  truth,  for  Heaven's  sake,  Daphne." 


Page  iff. 


An  Important  Interview  147 

"  Tell  me  the  truth,  for  heaven's  sake  Daphne.  All  I 
care  for  in  life  may  hang  upon  it,"  and  she  remained 
thus  waiting  eagerly  while  her  sister  appeared  to  be 
wrestling  with  feelings  which  prevented  her  from  re- 
plying. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   TRUTH 

THE  two  sisters  sat  for  a  long  time  in  silence,  each  im- 
pressed by  the  critical  gravity  of  the  position.  The 
younger  tried  to  put  the  strongest  reserve  upon  herself, 
and  the  elder  was  manifestly  overcome  by  the  rush  of 
thoughts  which  her  sister's  words  had  loosened.  Her 
face  became  very  stern  and  hard,  the  frown  on  the 
forehead  giving  to  the  features  an  expression  that  was 
almost  repelling. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  to  answer  you,  Dorothy,"  she 
said,  at  length.  "  I  cannot  tell  you  the  whole  story — I 
will  not,  in  fact;  and  yet  without  telling  you  -I  cannot 
make  you  understand.  I  am  not  a  murderess  in  fact. 
That  is,  I  did  not  kill  that  wretched  Maiwand.  Make 
your  mind  easy  on  that  score — that  is  to  say,  if  your  mind 
is  one  of  those  British  ones  which  holds  a  man  or  woman 
innocent  of  murder  so  long  as  their  hand  has  not  actually 
dealt  the  death  blow.  But  he  owed  his  death  to  me ;  and 
I,  like  a  fearsome  fool,  so  acted  that  if  I  were  charged 
to-morrow  with  the  crime  and  the  facts  were  even  fairly 
told,  there  are  not  a  dozen  men  in  England  who  would 
not  think  me  guilty.  There  you  have  my  secret  then," 
she  cried,  with  angry  emphasis.  "  I  have  lived  the  last 
seven  years  with  the  full  knowledge  that  if  ever  the  police 
found  out  who  I  was,  I  should  be  condemned  for  the 
murder  of  that  man.  That  is  a  sword  which  no  woman 
can  carry  about  in  her  heart,  and  yet  remain  young.  At 
least,  so  I  thought.  But  now — " 

148 


The  Truth  149 

She  paused  and  her  sister  made  no  attempt  to  speak. 
What  had  been  said  let  her  see  clearly  enough  now  that 
the  hold  which  the  man  Count  de  Montalt  had,  was  even 
much  greater  that  she  had  feared. 

"  Do  you  think  he  knows  where  I  am  ?  "  asked  Daphne, 
sfiarply,  after  a  long  and  painful  pause. 

"  I  can't  say  yet.  But  I  am  so  afraid  of  him  that  he 
seems  to  me  likely  to  know  anything." 

"  Had  you  it  written  anywhere  among  your  papers  ?  " 

"  Only  in  one  place.  There  is  an  entry  in  a  diary  of 
mine,  simply  the  name  '  Nurse  Morland,'  and  the  address. 
But  the  diary  is  in  a  safe  in  my  own  rooms.  He  cannot 
have  got  to  that  ?  " 

11  Cannot !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  with  a  gesture  of  im- 
patience. "  You  don't  know  him  if  you  think  that. 
When  he  once  held  the  clue  he  got  when  searching  your 
box,  he  would  ransack  every  nook  and  cranny  where  you 
would  probably  or  improbably  keep  such  a  thing.  He 
must  have  found  the  name  Marlow  somewhere ;  and  that 
accounts  for  his  knowing  everything  else.  He  is  no 
wizard;  only  a  man  of  infinite  cunning,  and  as  daring 
as  a  man  can  be.  Our  one  chance  is  that  he  does  not 
know  where  I  am.  He  has  sought  me  for  years." 

At  that  moment  they  were  interrupted  by  a  knock  at 
the  door,  and  the  elder  sister,  removing  rapidly  the  signs 
of  her  emotion,  opened  it  at  once. 

"  Nurse  Morland,  the  matron  says  that  No.  37  is  not 
so  well,  and  can  you  go  to  her  ?  " 

"  I  must  go  on  duty  now,  Dessie,"  she  said  turning  to 
her  sister,  while  the  maid  waited.  "  I  am  glad  to  have 
haci  a  chat  over  old  times.  I  will  call  and  see  you 
to-morrow  morning.  You  are  probably  staying  at  the 
Queen's  Hotel?" 

"Yes,  you  will  find  me  there  in  the  morning.    Come 


150  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

as  early  as  you  can,  as  I  am  going  on  before  the  after- 
noon." 

"If  you  give  my  name  at  the  Queen's,  you  will  find 
Mrs.  Smith  very  pleasant.  I  nursed  her  through  an 
illness,  and  she  thinks  I  saved  her  life." 

In  this  way  they  parted,  and  Dessie,  feeling  more  for- 
lorn and  miserable  than  she  had  ever  felt  before  in  her 
life,  hurried  away  to  make  arrangements  at  the  hotel  to 
stay  the  night.  The  mention  of  Nurse  Morland's  name 
proved  a  good  introduction,  and  saved  her  from  having  to 
give  any  reason  for  the  somewhat  equivocal  fact  that  she 
Was  travelling  alone  and  without  luggage. 

She  passed  a  desolate  night.  Even  at  the  darkest  point 
of  her  life  she  had  had  hope  in  the  future;  but  now  she 
could  not  perceive  a  single  ray  anywhere.  She  was  ab- 
solutely in  this  man's  power,  to  do  with  as  he  pleased, 
and  out  of  this  a  new  dread  grew  during  the  night's 
thoughts. 

It  was  that  she  would  not  be  able  to  tell  Tom  Cheriton ; 
and  no  one  knew  better  than  she  that  that  must  mean 
their  parting.  Looming  in  the  distance  she  saw  the  ter- 
rible alternative  of  having  to  maintain  an  impenetrable 
silence  in  regard  to  everything,  or  of  having  to  see  her 
sister  stand  in  the  dock  on  a  charge  of  murder,  with  an 
almost  certain  conviction  to  follow. 

Before  the  prospect  of  such  a  choice  she  shrank  and 
trembled  like  a  child.  It  was  as  she  had  said.  All  that 
she  held  dear  in  life  hung  on  the  issue. 

In  the  morning  she  was  up  early  and  had  breakfast 
in  her  own  room.  She  resolved  to  go  out  for  a  short 
walk,  as  her  head  was  aching  violently,  and  then  return 
and  wait  for  her  sister.  As  she  was  going  down  the  stairs 
to  pass  through  the  hall  she  had  an  additional  shock. 

Sir  Edmund  Landale  was  standing  there,  speaking  to 


The  Truth  151 

a  waiter  and  asking  the  way  to  the  Middle  Riding  In- 
firmary. 

What  could  that  mean?  She  was  quick  now  to  scent 
danger  in  any  new  incident,  and  after  a  moment's  pause 
of  indecision,  she  determined  that  there  was  less  risk 
in  speaking  to  him  and  endeavouring  to  find  out  his 
business  than  in  remaining  ignorant  of  it. 

He  showed  little  or  no  surprise  at  seeing  her;  and 
Dessie  noticed  it. 

"  How  did  you  know  I  was  here  ?  "  she  asked ;  and  the 
question  confused  him  so  that  he  hesitated  and  stam- 
mered. 

"  I  had  to  come  here — "  he  began. 

"  The  day  before  yesterday  morning  you  wrote  that 
you  were  going  to  call  at  my  rooms  to  see  me.  Not  a 
soul  knew  of  my  coming  here.  Why  then — "  She  stopped 
and  paused.  Her  own  question  had  given  her  a  clue 
that  startled  her ;  but  she  acted  upon  it  with  instant  readi- 
ness and  very  shrewdly.  She  steadied  herself  for  the 
effort,  and  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  she  added :  *'  When 
you  saw  the  Count  de  Montalt  at  my  rooms,  he  gave 
you  no  reason  to  think  I  should  be  here.  He  told  me 
nothing  about  your  coming  north  either.  You  dropped 
no  hint  of  it  to  him,  did  you  ?  " 

He  stared  at  her,  as  if  trying  to  get  at  her  meaning; 
his  weak  features  so  expressive  of  doubt  and  perplexity, 
that  for  the  moment  Dessie  feared  she  had  made  a  mis- 
take. But  she  went  on  with  it. 

"If  you  told  him  anything,  then  I  can  only  conclude 
that  he  has  played  me  false.  He  knew  perfectly  well 
that  I  should  not  have  come  here,  had  I  thought  to  meet 
you.  The  reasons  which  made  me  keep  away,  even  from 
my  own  rooms,  when  you  were  going  to  call  there,  would 
have  had  ten  times  their  strength  in  such  a  case  as  this." 


152  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

The  Baronet  saw  the  discrepancy  in  her  words,  and 
gave  away  the  important  secret  in  the  eagerness  to  score 
the  little  point  against  her. 

"You  have  just  now  said  that  he  could  have  told  me 
nothing,  because  at  that  time  you  had  not  even  formed  the 
plan  in  your  own  thoughts.  I  could  not  therefore  have 
come  down  on  any  but  my  own  initiative." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  this  meeting  is  the  result  of  pure 
chance,  Sir  Edmund  ?  " 

"  Don't  say  '  Sir  '  Edmund,  Dessie,"  he  said.  "  Try 
and  be  a  little  less  hard  with  me.  What  I  said  in  my 
letter  is  all  absolutely  true.  Come  out;  you've  got  your 
things  on,  I  see.  I'll  tell  you  the  whole  cause  of  my 
being  down  here.  You  don't  know  the  influence  you  have 
with  me.  I'll  do  anything  you  like,  anything  you  tell  me, 
if  only  you'll  listen  to  me." 

It  was  all  plain  enough  to  the  girl  now,  and  it  was 
with  a  feeling  of  dismay  that  she  followed  her  companion 
out  of  the  hotel. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  when  for  some  time  he  made  no  at- 
tempt to  speak,  "  what  have  you  to  tell  me?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  make  a  confession  to  you.  I've  been 
within  an  ace  of  behaving  a  brute  to  you  again.  You  can 
believe  me  or  not,  as  you  please,  but  I  swear  to  you  it's 
true  what  I  wrote.  I've  been  looking  for  you  for  months 
— for  years,  indeed — ever  since  we  parted.  I  didn't  know 
then  how  much  you  were  to  me;  now,  I ' 

"  I  am  engaged  to  marry  Mr.  Cheriton,  Sir  Edmund ; 
and  I  cannot  let  you  talk  in  this  way." 

"  I  know  you're  engaged,  and  it  was  that  that  maddened 
me  when  the  Count  de  Montalt  told  me.  It  seemed  such 
bitter  disappointment  just  when  I'd  found  you,  to  hear 
that  we  were  further  apart  than  ever.  Are  you  sure  you 
care  for  him " 


The  Truth  153 

"  Yes,  quite.  As  sure  as  that  I  have  long  since  ceased 
to  care  for  or  even  think  about,  you,"  said  Dessie,  curtly. 
"  But  you  asked  me  to  come  out  that  you  might  tell  me 
the  cause  of  your  being  here." 

"  It's  not  much  good  telling  you  anything,  if  that's 
the  way  you  can  speak  to  me,  after  all  the  years  we 
have  known  one  another,"  said  the  man.  doggedly,  after 
a  pause. 

"  Well,  but  did  you  think  that,  after  you  had  treated 
me  as  no  honourable  man  ever  yet  treated  a  woman,  I 
should  be  waiting  and  eating  my  heart  out  for  love  of 
you — all  eagerness  to  fall  into  your  arms  the  moment  you 
held  up  a  beckoning  finger?  " 

"  You  loved  me,  then,"  he  answered,  looking  at  her 
with  the  sullen  look  of  a  weak,  selfish  man,  angry  through 
disappointment. 

"  I  did  many  odd  things  in  those  days.  I  know  the 
world  now,  and  have  purchased  my  experience.  I  cer- 
tainly do  not  love  you  now  " — she  said  this  with  a  short 
laugh.  "  You  can  pride  yourself  on  having  done  one 
thing  thoroughly,  at  any  rate,  in  your  life — disillusioned 
me." 

"  But  I  want  you.  I  have  found  out  I  cannot  live 
without  you,"  he  said,  earnestly.  "  I  have  never  ceased  to 
repent  my  abominable  conduct.  I  see  now  how  abomi- 
nable it  was." 

"  It  is  a  tardy  awakening — and  a  useless  one,  so  far  as 
I  am  concerned.  Never  in  all  my  life  will  you  stand  in 
my  memory  unconnected  with  that  time  of  callous  cow- 
ardice." 

"  You  are  very  bitter.  It  is  not  a  Christian  reception  of 
repentance." 

"  Christian ! "  she  repeated,  looking  at  him  with  a 
frown  of  amused  doubt.  "  Christian !  Since  when  have 


154  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

you  resumed  the  cant  of  those  chapel  days?  I  should 
have  thought  you  had  shaken  that  off  with  your  other 
weaknesses.  But  I  am  not  a  Christian  in  that  sense, 
thank  you,"  and  Dessie  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  You  mean  by  this  attitude  that  you  will  not  listen 
to  me?" 

"  If  you  mean  by  listening  to  you,  letting  you  make 
love  to  me  in  this  style  of  infatuated  folly  with  the  least 
idea  that  I  can  ever  be  more  to  you  than  I  am  now — 
sorry  that  I  ever  knew  you,  that  is — I  will  not  listen  to 
you.  But  I  will  listen  readily  enough  if  you  tell  me  why 
you  are  here." 

<rYou  are  the  reason.  I  mean  what  I  say,"  he  con- 
tinued, with  that  repetition  which  weak  men  take  for 
doggedness  and  resolution.  "  I  want  you.  I  cannot  live 
without  you.  You  will  have  to  be  my  wife.  I  have 
come  down  here  now  because  of  that  resolve.  I  know 
your  sister  is  here ;  and  I  can  save  you  from  the  exposure 
which  you  dread  now  as  much  as  ever.  Now  you  know 
what  I  mean,  and  why  I  am  here." 

If  he  had  known  how  much  he  had  frightened  her,  he 
would  have  felt  more  confidence  than  he  showed.  But 
she  steadied  herself  not  to  let  him  see  what  a  blow  he 
had  struck. 

"  I  must  undeceive  you,"  she  said,  quietly.  "  Even  if 
you  have  as  keen  a  willingness  as  you  used  to  have  to 
use  any  means  you  can  think  of  to  strike  at  me,  you  are 
powerless  in  this  matter.  You  are  apparently  being  made 
a  tool  of  by  a  man  cleverer  and  more  subtle  than  your- 
self, and  he  has  persuaded  you  that  he  can  give  you  some 
kind  of  power  over  me  to  break  me  to  your  will.  Try 
it,"  saul  Dessie,  stopping  and  looking  with  a  confident 
smile  into  his  face.  "  Try  it.  Go  to  Mr.  Cheriton.  Tell 
him  all  you  know  of  me.  Go  where  you  will  to  expose 


The  Truth  155 

me.  But  remember  that  now  I  have  the  whip  hand,  not 
you.  When  I  was  a  governess  you  could  go  to  my  em- 
ployer, and  the  whisper  of  a  lie  was  enough  to  turn  me 
adrift.  But  try  it  with  a  woman  journalist.  Why,  your 
knowledge  of  the  world  will  tell  you  that  the  only  effect 
would  be  to  give  me  a  splendid  advertisement  for  my 
works,  and  create  a  boom  in  my  books.  Think  of  it — 
a  woman  writer,  with  a  real  past !  No,  no,  Sir  Edmund, 
melodrama  is  as  dead  as  morality.  And  if  one's  code 
of  morals  and  manners  hadn't  changed  I  shouldn't  have 
listened  to  you  for  a  moment.  You  must  try  something 
else." 

"  I  will  try  whatever  comes  my  way,"  he  answered 
savagely  and  sullenly.  "  You  set  me  at  defiance,  then  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  I  don't  do  anything  so  ridiculous.  I  merely  tell  you 
that  I  can  never  marry  you  and  that  the  sooner  you  put 
away  all  thoughts  of  anything  of  the  kind  the  better. 
For  the  rest,  go  back  to  your  instructor  and  get  him  to 
give  you  a  better  and  more  honourable  part  to  play." 

"  You  are  very  blunt,"  he  said,  and  he  flushed  with  an- 
ger. "  I'll  be  equally  blunt.  I  shall  go  through  with  this. 
I  won't  give  up  the  chance  of  winning  you,  by  fair  means 
or  foul,  till  you're  married  to  this  man,  who  has  come 
between  us — and  perhaps  not  then.  So  I  warn  you,"  and 
then  thinking  he  had  made  rather  an  impressive  speech, 
he  raised  his  hat  and  left  Dessie,  who  stood  looking  after 
him,  half  laughing  at  the  absurdity,  half  afraid  of  what 
his  spite  might  do. 

Then  she  went  back  to  the  hotel  slowly  and  thought- 
fully; and  the  first  message  that  greeted  her  was  that 
Nurse  Morland  had  called  and  was  waiting  to  see  her. 


DESSIE  S  RESOLVE 

A  GLANCE  at  her  sister's  face  told  Dessie  that  she  too 
had  passed  an  anxious  night.  The  expression  was  now 
very  hard,  but  the  lines  on  the  face  seemed  to  have 
deepened. 

"  I  have  still  worse  news  for  you  than  yesterday,"  said 
Dessie.  "  Your  fears  as  to  this  man's  recklessness  were 
a  safer  guide  than  my  belief  in  my  own  precautions.  I 
have  found  out  that  he  went  to  my  rooms  in  my  ab- 
sence, and  of  course  ransacked  the  place,  finding  out 
everything.  He  knows  where  you  are;  and  he  sent  a  man 
here,  following  me,  to  see  what  happened,  and  probably 
to  watch  your  movements." 

"  How  do  you  know  this  ?  "  asked  the  other,  in  a  tone 
that  seemed  dulled  with  suffering. 

"I  have  seen  the  man  and  spoken  to  him.  It  is  Sir 
Edmund  Landale." 

"  A  gentleman  to  do  spy's  work?  " 

"  No,  not  a  gentleman :  only  a  mean  pitiful  scoundrel 
to  whom  accident  has  given  wealth  and  a  title,"  and  she 
told  her  sister  briefly  her  former  relations  with  Landale, 
his  conduct,  and  the  purport  of  the  conversation  that 
morning. 

"  How  much  does  he  know  ?  "  asked  Daphne,  at  the 
end. 

"  I  cannot  tell.  I  have  no  idea."  Then  a  long  pause 
followed. 

'5* 


Dessie's  Resolve  157 

"  I  can  see  no  escape,"  said  the  elder  sister — "  save 
one,"  she  added  in  a  low  voice,  almost  a  whisper. 

"And  that  is?" 

"  We  must  let  things  go  on  as  they  will.  I  have  been 
thinking  of  it  all  night,  and  I  wonder  the  poor  wretch  I 
was  nursing  didn't  die  under  my  hands.  Don't  think 
I'm  afraid.  I'm  not  such  a  coward  as  that.  I  have 
piled  up  these  flintstones  for  a  bed,  and  I  won't  flinch 
and  cry  out  because  -I  have  to  lie  on  them.  If  I  could  have 
spared  myself  the  ordeal  I  would  have  done  it ;  but  I  can- 
riot.  It  is  hard ;  damnably  hard," — the  oath  was  a  sudden 
gust  of  passion  that  seemed  to  shake  her  violently — > 
"  but  every  woman  has  to  suffer  in  this  world.  But  if 
I  have  to  go  through  with  this,  and  I  escape,  I'll  have 
the  man's  life  that  exposes  me." 

"  It  will  never  come  to  that,  Daphne,"  said  her  sister, 
dismayed  at  the  other's  concentrated  passion;  but  the 
elder  took  no  notice  of  the  interruption,  and  continued 
speaking  very  slowly. 

"  I  wonder — but  men  are  poor  things.  Yet  I've  a 
mind  to  try  him.  I  told  you  yesterday  there  is  a  man 
here  who  vows  that  he  loves  me,  that  he  would  go  through 
— but  there,  you  know  a  man's  vows,  I  suppose.  But 
this,  I  believe  is  a  good  man,  sincere,  and  honest,  and 
true.  We  were  to  have  been  married  soon,  but  now — " 

"  But  you  couldn't  have  married  him  without  tell- 
ing him  the  past,  Daphne,"  said  her  sister,  when  she 
paused. 

"  Couldn't  ?  Why  not  ?  Do  men  tell  their  future  wives 
all  the'  secrets  of  their  past?  "  Her  sneer  ended  in  a  sigh 
expressive  of  the  predominant  feeling.  "  But  never  mind. 
It  is  all  over.  I  can't  go  to  him  and  say — '  I  am  likely  to 
be  tried  for  murder,  and  if  tried  to  be  convicted.  Will 
you  fly  the  country  for  my  sake  and  with  me?'  Ancj 


158  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

yet — "  here  her  voice  sank  again  to  a  whisper  of  despair 
— "  if  I  lose  him  I  care  nothing  what  lies  ahead." 

The  mixture  of  raillery,   passing  sneers  and  unmis 
takable  misery  affected  the  younger  girl  till  she  could 
not  speak;  and  the  fresh  pause  was  broken  by  Daphne, 
who  spoke  more  decidedly. 

"  I  can  take  only  one  course  with  you,  Dorothy,"  she 
said.  "  I  shall  leave  you  absolutely  free  to  seek  your 
own  happiness  your  own  way.  I  had  some  thought  dur- 
ing the  night  of  appealing  to  you  to  try  and  save  me 
from  what  has  to  come.  But  I  will  not  do  that.  I  cannot. 
I  have  not  a  vestige  of  right.  You  gave  the  mother  a 
pledge  that  if  at  any  time  the  need  arose  you  would  do 
all  that  lay  in  your  power  to  help  me.  I  know  you  would 
now  hold  by  that  pledge,  even  if  it  cost  you  your  hap- 
piness. But  I  will  not  let  you.  I  won't  accept  the 
sacrifice.  You  could  not  make  it  ungrudgingly;  and  I 
want  no  unwilling  help.  I  don't  mean  that  unkindly," 
she  said,  seeing  the  girl  wince,  "  but  I  know  human 
nature/' 

Dessie  made  no  attempt  to  speak. 

"  You  had  better  do  this.  Go  back  to  London — you 
can  do  no  good  here.  You  know  all  that  has  to  be  known. 
Take  your  own  course.  Set  this  man  at  defiance;  but 
for  God's  sake  be  careful  of  your  own  saiety.  He  would 
think  no  more  of  taking  your  life  than  he  would  of  stamp- 
ing on  some  venomous  thing  that  threatened  him.  Be 
prepared  for  any  action  on  his  part,  however  wild,  reck- 
less, and  desperate.  He  is  capable  of  anything.  I  warn 
you — and  not  a  soul  on  earth  knows  what  he  is  capable  of 
doing  so  well  as  I  do.  Wait  a  minute/'  she  said,  when 
her  sister  was  going  to  speak,  "  I  ask  only  one  thing. 
Let  me  know  the  instant  you  have  decided  and  have  set 
him  at  defiance.  Any  form  of  warning  will  do ;  and  after 


Bessie's  Resolve  159 

that  I  can  take  my  chance.  I  disappeared  before,  and  can 
probably  do  so  again.  If  not — " 

"  If  not,"  echoed  the  other,  questioningly. 

11  No  matter." 

"  I  understand  you,  of  course,"  said  Dessie,  now  much 
calmer.  "  And  I  will  tell  you  what  I  mean  to  do.  I  shall 
not  do  what  you  propose.  I  should  hate  myself  for  ever 
for  a  contemptible  thing  if  I  bought  my  happiness  at  the 
cost  of  yours.  Besides,  what  chance  is  there  that  either 
of  us  can  be  happy  with  that  awful  secret  over  our 
heads?  Do  you  think  I  would  marry  a  man  that  other 
people  should  be  able  to  point  at  and  say — his  wife  was 
the  centre  of  such  a  scandal  as  this?  Not  for  half  the 
world.  No,  Daphne,  your  secret  is  safe  in  my  keeping. 
What  -I  have  to  do  to  keep  it  I  will  do.  Heaven  knows 
it's  hard,  but  it  is  not  so  hard  as  to  marry  a  man  you  love 
and  to  see  his  love  die — as  most  surely  it  would — from 
the  daily  dropping  of  poison  distilled  from  such  a  secret 
as  this." 

The  elder  sister  sat  listening  with  almost  painful  in- 
tensity; and  when  the  other  stopped  she  remained  long 
silent,  frowning,  her  brow  contracted  as  if  in  pain,  her 
fingers  tightly  interlocked,  and  her  body  swaying  slightly 
to  and  fro. 

a  I  must  go,"  she  said  at  length,  speaking  very  heavily, 
and  rising.  "  It  is  all  a  problem  with  no  solution.  If 
I  were  to  fly,  it  would  not  help  you.  My  death  would  not 
save  you,  as  you  look  at  the  matter.  If  I  gave  myself  up, 
it  would  only  make  matters  worse.  Promise  me  one 
thing,"  she  said.  "  Do  nothing  rashly.  I  have  one  idea 
that  may  take  shape.  Do  nothing  too  quickly." 

"  Everything  must  be  settled  quickly,"  returned  Des- 
sie. "  And  what  hope  can  any  delay  give  ?  " 

With  that  the  two  sisters  parted,  and  an  Hour  later 


1 60  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

Dessie  was  in  the  train  on  her  way  back  to  London,  feel- 
ing even  more  baffled  than  before  her  visit.  Before  the 
interview  with  her  sister  there  had  been  the  faint  hope 
that  some  link  in  the  chain  that  bound  her  was  weak  or 
missing,  but  her  sister's  statements  and  admissions  de- 
stroyed that  hope  completely ;  and  what  the  girl  had  now 
to  face  was  the  dilemma  in  its  ugliest,  most  repulsive, 
most  threatening,  and  most  perplexing  form. 

She  had  to  choose  between  her  friend  and  her  sister. 
She  must  either  keep  silent,  and  let  Mrs.  Markham  marry 
a  man  who  was  worse  than  many  a  wretch  who  had 
expiated  his  crime  on  the  scaffold,  or  expose  her  sister  to 
the  certainty  of  a  prosecution  for  murder,  and  to  the  prob- 
ability of  a  conviction. 

To  herself  and  her  own  share  of  suffering  she  paid  lit- 
tle heed.  The  thought  of  her  sister  having  to  stand 
in  the  dock  to  answer  the  charge  of  murder,  and  having 
the  whole  of  the  lurid  facts  of  her  past  life  brought  out 
one  by  one  in  the  course  of  a  series  of  sensational  exam- 
inations, so  filled  her  imagination  that  it  crowded  out  for 
the  moment  the  thought  of  her  own  part.  She  became  a 
necessary  part  of  the  tragedy,  but  only  a  minor  part. 

Her  journalistic  experience  caused  her  to  appreciate 
to  the  full  the  sensation  which  such  a  case  would  create. 
She  had  helped  to  work  up  others  of  the  kind  in  which 
there  was  not  a  tithe  of  the  incident  and  dramatic  detail 
of  this;  and  she  knew  how  greedily  every  little  incident 
and  detail  would  be  seized  on  and  dressed  up  in  readable 
"  copy  "  for  the  million.  There  was  material  enough  in 
the  incidents  to  sell  hundreds  of  thousands  of  extra 
papers. 

Even  her  own  story — with  its  extraordinary  recovery 
of  the  Rohilkund  jewels — would  be  worked  up  into  a 


Dessie's  Resolve  161 

series  of  sensations,  each  "  palpitating  with  actuality," 
and  making  splendid  "  copy."  It  was  possible,  too,  that 
if  her  sister  with  her  awful  past  were  charged  with  mur- 
der, Dessie  herself  might  be  charged  as  in  some  way  an 
accessory  in  the  theft  of  the  jewels.  When  once  public 
excitement  and  rage  were  excited,  there  was  no  knowing 
what  victim  would  be  claimed. 

Now  that  she  viewed  her  own  conduct  in  the  light  of 
her  present  mood,  she  could  not  help  seeing  that  very 
few  people  would  believe  her  story  of  the  way  in  which 
the  rubies  had  come  into  her  possession.  She  herself 
had  before  now  poured  scorn  upon  many  a  more  prob- 
able story;  and  she  could  anticipate  vividly  the  hundred 
tones  of  scepticism  in  which  writers  would  ask  where  was 
the  mysterious  unknown  who  carried  jewels  worth  a 
king's  ransom  in  a  handbag  without  knowing  anything 
about  it,  and  then  opened  an  anonymous  correspondence 
to  give  the  jewels  away! 

When  the  whole  country  would  thus  be  ridiculing  and 
denouncing  her,  and  she  was  proclaimed  in  the  face  of 
all  the  world  as  the  possessor  of  jewels  whose  price  had 
been  murder,  as  a  liar  whose  tale  was  too  improbable 
for  even  a  child  to  believe,  and  as  the  sister  of  a  woman 
who  had  only  ceased  to  be  a  public  harlot  when  she  be- 
came a  murderess,  what  would  her  lover  do — dear,  brave, 
honest  Tom  Cheriton  ?  What  could  he  do  ? 

A  little  glow  of  exultation  warmed  the  miserable  girl's 
heart  as  it  harboured  the  thought  that  he  would  stand 
by  her,  believe  in  her,  and  know  her  to  be  true,  despite 
all  the  world  might  say  and  think.  To  her  that  consola- 
tion would  be  enough ;  and  for  some  minutes  she  pleased 
herself  by  thinking  of  it,  and  picturing  the  sturdy  face  and 
loving  eyes  of  her  betrothed  standing  quietly  and  firmly 


1 62  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

by  her  side,  cheering  her  with  word  and  glance,  and 
turning  to  face  the  whole  sneering,  gibing,  threatening 
world  in  her  defence. 

She  felt  sure  of  him ;  but  the  test  was  one  which  could 
never  be  applied. 

Let  come  what  might,  Daphne  must  never  be  betrayed. 
That  was  the  one  resolution  which  must  dominate  every- 
thing else.  She  must  be  saved  at  all  hazards ;  and  Dessie 
did  not  attempt  to  hide  from  herself  what  this  involved 
for  her. 

First,  it  meant  the  separation  of  her  lover  and  herself. 
She  could  not  tell  him  the  truth  now ;  and  she  would  not 
marry  him  without  telling  him.  Even  had  she  been  able 
to  tell  him  all,  she  would  still  have  refused  to  be  his 
wife.  She  was  no  fit  wife  for  him.  The  shadow  of  some 
exposure  hung  over  her.  At  any  moment  an  accident 
might  cut  the  thread  by  which  the  sword  hung  over  her 
head,  and  it  might  fall.  That  was  too  great  a  burden  to 
put  on  any  man's  love,  too  great  a  risk  to  thrust  into  his 
life.  She  loved  Tom  well  enough  to  sacrifice  herself  to 
him;  and  too  much  to  sacrifice  him  to  herself. 

When  she  had  settled  those  two  points — had  fixed  the 
main  basis  of  her  decision  that  her  sister  must  be  saved ; 
and  had  faced  the  necessity  to  give  up  her  lover — she 
was  calmer  and  easily  decided  upon  other  points. 

She  would  make  the  best  terms  possible  with  the  Count ; 
if  possible  to  get  him  to  abandon  the  marriage  by  giving 
him  the  jewels.  If  he  would  not  forego  the  marriage  she 
must  devote  her  life  to  watching  over  the  safety  of  her 
friend. 

When  the  train  reached  Grantham  her  plans  had  suffi- 
ciently cleared  for  her  to  send  a  telegram  to  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham,  saying  that  she  would  be  back  at  her  house  that 
afternoon.  Her  intention  was  to  go  to  South  Kensington 


Bessie's  Resolve  163 

after  a  hurried  visit  to  her  own  rooms,  to  satisfy  herself 
whether  her  rooms  had  really  been  visited  by  the  Count 
in  the  manner  she  had  heard  from  Sir  Edmund  Landale. 

She  was  a  brave,  staunch  little  soul,  but  as  she  sat  look- 
ing out  upon  the  country  through  which  the  train  rushed, 
she  felt  woefully  forlorn,  and  weak  and  miserable.  As 
the  distance  between  her  and  London  decreased  so  her 
sense  of  depression  increased  ;  and  as  the  train  was  steam- 
ing under  the  series  of  short  tunnels  that  cover  the  line 
close  to  the  terminus,  the  thought  occurred  to  her  that  in 
all  the  millions  of  hearts  in  the  big  city  none  was  more 
gloomy  and  heavy  laden  than  her  own. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  get  over  it  in  time,"  she  thought. 
"  They  say  that  people  get  used  even  to  penal  servitude 
or  to  some  long  lingering,  wasting  illness ;  but  to-day  I 
can't  feel  that  it's  possible  I  shall  ever  shake  off  the 
awful  weight  that  seems  trying  to  drag  me  down.  And 
to  think  it  could  never  have  happened  if  it  had  not  been 
for  that  chance  exchange  of  bags  that  day  at  Birmingham. 
What  fools  we  are  to  think  anything  can  be  a  trifle !  " 

When  the  train  drew  up  in  the  station  she  jumped  out 
quickly  and  walked  at  a  brisk  pace  along  the  platform; 
but  she  had  barely  left  the  carriage  when  she  met  the 
Count  de  Montalt,  who  raised  his  hat,  and  greeted  her 
with  his  usual  overdone  politeness. 

"  It  was  thoughtful  of  you  to  let  me  know  that  you 
would  arrive  by  this  train,  Miss  Merrion.  The  moment 
Mrs.  Markham  showed  me  your  telegram,  despatched 
from  Grantham,  I  guessed  that  you  were  en  route,  and  a 
single  reference  showed  me  the  time  of  your  arrival. 
You  knew,  of  course,  that  I  should  be  anxious  as  to  the 
result  of  your  visit  to  your  sister  at  Middlesbridge,  and 
I  presumed  you  wished  to  let  me  know  it  at  the  earliest 
moment.  I  thank  you  for  your  consideration.  I  always 


1 64  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

appreciate  little  attentions  of  the  kind,  and  am  grateful 
Well?" 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  he  was  hiding  some  anxiety 
under  this  assumption  of  lightness. 

"  You  know  perfectly  well,  of  course,  that  what  you 
are  saying  has  not  the  slightest  shadow  of  foundation; 
and  that  the  last  thing  in  the  world  which  I  could  desire 
is  that  you  should  be  here  to  meet  me,  and  give  me  a 
single  unnecessary  minute  of  your  presence." 

He  twisted  his  moustache,  and  thrust  one  end  of  it 
between  his  teetH,  keeping  his  eyes  fixed  on  her  closely 
as  she  spoke.  He  seemed  to  be  balancing  every  word, 
and  indeed  attempting  to  interpret  every  tone  of  her 
voice. 

"  Well,  I  am  here,  at  any  rate,"  he  said,  conveying  by 
his  manner  a  suggestion  that  while  he  was  naturally  anx- 
ious to  hear  what  she  might  have  to  tell  him,  he  was  still 
dangerous  and  to  be  feared. 

"  I  am  going  first  to  my  rooms ;  I  think  you  know 
where  they  are,"  said  Dessie,  pausing  and  looking  at 
him. 

"  I  have  been  under  the  necessity  of  calling  there  for 
you  in  your  absence,"  he  replied,  guessing  instantly  that 
she  and  Landale  had  met,  and  that  she  knew  of  his  visit. 
"  Though  I  did  not  see  you  yourself,  it  was  not  altogether 
a  useless  call,"  he  added. 

"  I  know  now  what  you  stole/'  answered  Dessie. 

"Do  you  think  I  am  a  thief?"  he  cried,  as  if  indig- 
nantly. He  stopped  and  looked  at  her  with  an  expression 
of  angry  protest.  They  had  left  the  station  now  and  were 
in  the  Huston  Road. 

"  I  do  not  think  it ;  I  know  it,"  answered  Dessie,  quietly. 

"  Ah,  this  is  too  much.    We  will  test  this  now,  if  you 


"  Here,  constable  I    This  lady  has  been  robbed.' 


Page  f6j. 


Dessie's  Resolve  165 

please.  There  is  a  policeman.  If  -I  am  a  thief  you  shall 
give  me  in  charge  at  once.  Here,  constable,"  he  called 
to  the  policeman,  who  came  up  leisurely  and  suspiciously, 
"  this  lady  has  been  robbed,  and  she  wishes  to  give  the 
thief  in  charge.  Now,  you  can  do  what  you  think  best," 
and  he  looked  at  her,  as  if  daring  her  to  give  him  in 
custody. 

"  I  have  no  charge  to  make.  I  do  not  want  you,"  said 
Dessie,  sharply,  to  the  policeman,  and  walked  away  at 
a  quick  pace,  the  Count  at  her  side,  while  the  constable 
looked  after  them,  puzzled  for  a  moment,  his  perplexity 
evaporating  in  a  smile,  as  he  scanned  them  very  shrewdly 
and  mentally  catalogued  them  as  a  "  couple  of  rum  'uns ;  " 
and  then  resumed  his  beat,  turning  now  and  again  to 
glance  after  them,  till  they  crossed  the  Euston  Road  and 
were  lost  in  the  distance. 

"  I  understand  all  now,"  said  the  Count,  quietly.  "  And 
I  congratulate  you  on  your  excellent  common  sense.  You 
have  found  out  now  that  when  I  say  a  thing  I  mean  it, 
and  that  what  I  threaten,  I  can  perform."  He  was  con- 
fident and  sanguine  again  now.  The  little  incident  had 
shown  him  that  Dessie  did  not  mean  to  set  him  at  defiance, 
and  thus  interfere  with  his  plans;  and  with  that  all  his 
anxiety  vanished. 

Me  Had  still  a  point  to  make,  as  he  meant  to  drive 
home  the  conviction  into  her  mind  that  her  only  safe 
course  was  absolute  silence  and  secrecy.  He  would  ac- 
cept no  other  terms. 

They  walked  some  distance  without  exchanging  a 
word,  but  when  they  were  crossing  one  of  the  Squares 
near  to  her  rooms  in  Bloomsbury  the  Count  said : — 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  trespass  any  longer  than  is  neces- 
sary, Miss  Merrion ;  and,  indeed,  I  am  overdue  in  South' 


1 66  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

Kensington.  If  you  will  take  one  turn  round  this  Square, 
•I  can  say  all  I  wish  to  say." 

"  We  had  better  go  on  to  my  rooms,"  answered  Dessie, 
curtly.  "  They  are  close  here,  as  you  know.  We  can 
then  speak  without  interruption,  and  I  have  probably 
more  to  say  to  you  than  you  to  me." 

"  As  you  will,"  he  assented,  airily ;  and  they  finished  the 
walk  without  another  word. 

As  they  entered,  the  housekeeper  came  to  tell  Dessie 
that  Tom  Cheriton  had  called  more  than  once  the  day  be- 
fore, and  again  that  morning.  Then  she  recognised  the 
Count,  and  he  saluted  her  gaily  with  a  laugh. 

"  More  successful  this  time,  you  see,"  he  said.  "  Not 
got  to  wait  a  long  time  to-day  without  seeing  Miss  Mer- 
rion ; "  and  the  woman  curtsied  in  remembrance  of  his 
two  shilling  tip.  "  Saves  you  the  trouble  of  your  asking 
her  to  identify  me,"  he  added,  lightly,  to  Dessie,  as  they 
went  up  the  staircase.  "  And  that  was,  of  course,  one 
of  your  reasons  for  bringing  me  hers."  Dessie  made  no 
answer.  His  impudent  audacity  appeared  to  baffle  her. 
Then  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and,  looking  round, 
said :  "  There's  not  much  out  of  order,  you'll  find.  I'm 
sorry  I  couldn't  manage  to  shut  the  safe  again.  That's 
the  only  thing;  but  if  you'll  get  it  done  and  send  me 
the  little  bill,  I  will  be  only  too  pleased  to  settle  it.  It's 
been  a  splendid  investment." 

"  You  need  not  boast  about  having  come  to  the  place 
like  the  thief  you  are " 

"  Stay,  Miss  Merrion,  please,"  he  cried,  in  an  altered 
tone.  "  Don't  make  this  business  harder  than  it  need  be 
by  this  kind  of  insult.  Time  presses,  and  we  have  more 
to  do  than  lose  our  tempers.  In  the  first  place,  listen  to 
me,  for  now  I  am  in  deadly  earnest " —  his  manner  was 


Dessie's  Resolve  167 

in  thorough  keeping  with  his  words.  "  I  know  perfectly 
well  your  errand  to  the  north.  I  know  what  you  have 
found  out  there — because  I  know  the  truth.  I  know  the 
alternative  course  you  have  to  decide ;  and  I  can  see  how 
you  have  decided.  You  have  resolved  to  hold  your 
tongue ;  and  a  very  wise  decision,  too,  if  you  want  to  save 
your  sister's  neck  and  your  own  identity  and  history  and 
false  name  from  being  the  public  property  of  every  reader 
of  every  half-penny  sensational  rag  in  the  country. 
You've  fought  the  game  well,  and  you're  a  plucky  girl, 
but  all  the  pluck  in  the  world  can't  fight  down  the  odds 
against  you.  You  know  my  terms — secrecy  for  secrecy, 
with  restoration  of  the  Rohilkund  rubies.  But  mark  you, 
not  a  sign  or  sound  or  syllable  of  what  you  know  to  any 
living  soul.  And  mark  this — least  of  all  to  Mr.  Cheriton. 
I  know  you  will  be  tempted  to  tell  him.  But  breathe  a 
single  word  to  him,  and  I  swear  by  the  devil  that  the 
very  moment  I  hear  of  it  I  will  tell  the  police  where  to 
lay  hands  on  the  notorious  Red  Delilah.  You  know  what 
will  follow.  This  is  no  child's-play.  Now  what  do  you 
say?" 

He  read  in  her  face  all  that  it  meant  to  her ;  but  he  read 
also  that  he  was  sure  to  win,  and  that  she  dared  not  re- 
fuse. He  waited,  therefore,  without  impatience  while 
she  fought  for  enough  self-command  to  reply. 

"  On  certain  conditions,"  she  said  steadily,  though  her 
voice  was  low,  "  I  will  hold  my  tongue ;  but  only  on  con- 
ditions."" 

a  And  give  up  the  jewels  to  me?  " 

"  And  give  up  the  jewels  to  you." 

"  Do  then,  and  you  will  find  me  grateful."  He  stopped 
as  his  quick  ear  caught  the  sound  of  footsteps  on  the 
staircase,  and  with  a  rapid  instinct  of  self-preservatiotv; 


1 68  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

he  added  with  passionate  concentration — "  But  remember, 
not  a  word  or  hint  to  a  soul  as  you  value  your  sister's 
life." 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  lips  when  a  hurried 
knock  was  struck  on  the  door  panel,  the  handle  was 
turned  quickly,  and  Tom  Cheriton  burst  in  excitedly. 

"  I  heard  from  the  housekeeper  you  were  back,  Dessie, 
but  not  that  this  gentleman  was  with  you."  He  stopped 
midway  in  a  rush  to  take  the  girl  in  his  arms,  and  look- 
ing angrily  at  the  Count,  he  asked — "  What  business  have 
you  here  ?  " 

A  hot  answer  rose  to  the  Count's  lips,  but  he  pressed 
it  back,  recognising  the  folly  of  pushing  Dessie  too  far 
at  such  a  moment. 

"  The  merest  accident,"  he  answered  courteously.  "  I 
was  charged  with  a  message  to  Miss  Merrion  from 
her  friend,  Mrs.  Markham,  and  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
find  her.  I  had  delivered  it,  and  was  on  the  point  of  going 
when  you  arrived.  Miss  Merrion,  I  wish  you  good  after- 
noon. You  will  not  forget  ? "  He  shot  one  glance  of 
warning  at  her  as  he  turned. 

"  I  shall  not  forget,"  she  answered. 

Tom  Cheriton  held  the  door  open,  and  stared  fixedly 
and  insultingly  at  the  Count  as  he  went  out,  and  con- 
tinued to  look  for  a  few  moments  as  he  went  down  the 
stairs.  Then  he  shut  the  door  with  a  loud  vicious  slam. 

"  I  hate  that  fellow,  Dessie,"  he  said,  angrily.  "  And  I 
swear  I'd  give  five  pounds  to  have  helped  him  down  the 
first  flight  with  a  kick.  What  did  he  want  here,  polluting 
the  place?  And  what  did  he  mean  about  telling  you  not 
to  forget,  and  warning  you  with  a  look  like  that,  eh? 
Why,  girlie,  you  look  ill  and  miserable.  What  on  earth's 
the  matter?"  he  asked,  in  a  caressing  tone,  and  went  to 


Dessie's  Resolve  169 

take  her  in  his  arms.     But  she  shrank  from  him,  and 
put  out  her  hands  to  keep  him  off,  saying : 

"  No,  Tom.  You  must  not  come  near  me ;  "  and  when 
he  looked  at  her  in  the  deepest  astonishment  she  threw 
up  her  hands,  and  with  a  heavy  sigh,  cried,  "  I  am  the 
most  miserable  girl  in  the  world,  and  all  is  over  between 
us"!" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

TOM   CHERITON   INTERVENES 

TOM  CHERITON  continued  to  stare  at  Dessie  until  his 
astonishment  had  given  way  to  sympathy,  sympathy  to 
speculation  and  speculation  to  close,  shrewd,  scrutinising 
inquiry. 

"  Well,  my  dear  child,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  I  suppose 
you  know  what  you're  talking  about,  because,  as  a  rule, 
you're  a  particularly  sharp,  level-headed  little  woman ;  but 
at  present  I'm  in  the  dark,  absolutely  and  completely,  and 
must  remain  there  until  you  tell  me  a  little  more  about 
things." 

"  I  can  tell  you  nothing.  T — Mr." — she  stopped  and 
hesitated,  having  begun  to  use  his  Christian  name,  and 
next  tried  in  vain  to  bring  out  his  surname. 

He  laughed;  not  boisterously  or  in  amusement,  but 
the  encouraging,  good-humoured,  yet  bantering  laugh  of 
a  friend. 

"  That's  no  use,  Dessie,"  he  said,  brightly,  as  he  looked 
at  her.  "  My  name's  Tom,  not  T,  and  considering  the 
number  of  times  I've  kissed  those  lips,  and  they've  kissed 
me,  you  can't  be  so  hard  on  them  as  to  expect  they  can 
still  say  '  Mr.  Cheriton/  It's  against  human  nature, 
Dessie."  He  repeated  her  name,  and  emphasised  the 
repetition. 

Dessie  said  nothing,  and  the  man's  heart  ached  as  He 
saw  that  she  was  suffering  keenly. 

170 


Tom  Cheriton  Intervenes  171 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Dessie  ?  "  he  said,  after  a  pause. 
"  If  you  can  tell  me,  do.  I've  been  full  of  trouble  about 
you  since  I  saw  your  telegram  and  letter  yesterday." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  anything,  Tom,"  she  answered.  "  I 
can't  really.  My  lips  are  sealed.  I  can't  say  a  word." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  shan't  press  you  to  speak,  if  you  tell 
me  that.  If  I  am  certain  of  anything  on  this  earth,  it 
is  that  you  love  me.  There's  only  one  thing  I'm  more 
certain  of,  and  that  is  that  I  love  you.  I'm  not  saying 
that  to  swagger  about  it.  I  can't  help  loving  you,  Dessie, 
and  I  could  no  more  put  you  out  of  my  life  than  I  could 
put  an  end  to  life  itself;  and  God  forbid  I  should  ever 
harbour  a  thought  of  that  kind." 

He  paused,  and  in  an  instant  continued : 

"  For  love  like  ours — and  we're  not  a  couple  who  wear 
the  advertisement  of  our  mutual  feeling  on  our  sleeves—- 
there's only  one  possible  foundation — absolute  trust.  It 
follows,  then,  that  in  a  thing  like  this  I  cannot  have  the 
slightest  shadow  of  a  doubt  that  you  are  doing  what  you 
think  best.  You  are  making  a  howling  mistake,  of  course. 
You'll  come  to  see  that  some  day."  He  paused  to  glance 
at  her  with  a  smile  of  cheering  goodwill  and  confidence, 
"  But,  till  then,  nothing  that  you  or  anyone  else  on  this 
great,  glorious  earth  of  ours  can  say,  do,  hint,  act,  or 
pretend  can  ever  shake  my  confidence  in  you.  You  feel 
that  ? "  He  stopped  for  an  answer  this  time,  meaning  to 
draw  her  to  speak  gradually. 

"  You  don't  understand,  Tom,"  said  the  girl,  when 
her  lover  appeared  determined  to  wait  till  she  did  answer. 

"  No,  I  know  that,"  he  returned  promptly.  "  Not  yet, 
that  is.  But  I  mean  to  know  all  about  it.  No — "  seeing 
her  about  to  protest — "  nothing  you  can  say  will  stop  me 
following  this  thing  out  to  the  end.  I'm  not  without 
clues,  already." 


172  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  You  must  promise  me  to  make  no  inquiries,"  said 
Dessie. 

"  I  shall  promise  nothing  of  the  kind.  Listen,  Dessie. 
You  have  promised  to  be  my  wife.  Up  to  two  or  three 
days  ago  there  was  not  a  cloud  between  us.  Not  a 
thought  we  did  not  share." 

"  That  is  not  right,  Tom,"  interposed  Dessie.  Her 
lover's  protested  intention  to  find  out  what  had  hap- 
pened appealed  to  her  fears,  and  roused  her.  "  There 
must  be  an  end  to  all  secrecy — " 

"  A  beginning,  you  mean,"  he  interpolated. 

"  An  end,"  she  repeated  quietly.  "  There  has  always 
been  a  secret  between  us.  There  was  always  something 
I  had  to  tell  you  which  all  the  same  remained  untold. 
Something  connected  with  myself — my  past  life." 

"  Was  it  anything  you  meant  to  keep  me  ignorant  of 
if  we  married,  Dessie  ?  "  he  asked  quietly.  "  But  there, 
why  ask  a  thing  like  that?  Do  I  believe  you  are  a  girl 
who  would  give  yourself  to  a  man  when  you  thought 
there  was  anything  in  your  life  that  rendered  you  un- 
worthy, even  in  your  own  opinion?  Psh!  Do  I  believe 
the  sun  goes  round  the  earth?  Or  that  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor is  necessarily  the  best  lawyer  in  the  country?  Or 
any  other  obvious  fallacy?  " 

"  You  have  never  believed  I  could  treat  you  in  this 
way:  Break  my  faith  and  my  word  without  a  word  of 
explanation.  And  yet  I'm  doing  it." 

"  Precisely ;  and  the  fact  only  shows  me  how  strong  you 
believe  the  necessity  to  be.  But  it  doesn't  prove  you 
unfaithful  to  me,"  answered  Tom,  imperturbably.  "  Per- 
haps you'll  ask  me  next  to  believe  you've  ceased  to  love 
me.  No,  no,  Dessie.  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  cheat  me 
in  this  way.  I'll  just  make  it  clear  to  you,  however, 
what  I  really  feel  and  believe." 


Tom  Cheriton  Intervenes  173 

w  Tom,  I  give  you  my  word  that  nothing  you  can  say 
or  do  can  alter  this.  Nothing  you  can  find  out  can  even 
affect  the  end  in  the  slightest.  All  that  can  happen  would 
be  that  you  would  see  the  inevitable  necessity  as  clearly 
as  I  do  now." 

"  Well,  that  would  be  something  gained,  at  any  rate," 
he  answered  with  dry  good  humour.  "  For  at  present  I 
see  no  necessity  at  all.  Listen  to  me.  Despite  all  you 
say  about  the  secret  that  you  were  going  to  tell,  but 
haven't  yet  told,  you  and  I  were  in  full  expectation,  three 
days  ago,  of  being  married.  When  we  parted  here  with 
the  thought,  which  was  a  little  envious,  perhaps,  that  Mrs. 
Markham  was  likely  to  be  married  before  us,  neither  of 
us  had  the  remotest  idea  that  anything  could  happen  to 
part  us  in  any  way,  but  certainly  not  like  this.  Had  we?  " 

"  It  can  do  no  good  to  think  any  more  of  this,  Tom." 

"  Very  well,  then,  it's  clear,  whether  you  answer  or  not, 
that  whatever  this  is  it  is  something  that  has  happened 
since  then.  It  is  nothing  on  my  side  or  to  do  with  me, 
and  it  follows  it  must  be  to  do  with  you.  What  has 
happened  in  the  meantime,  then?  Obviously,  the  only 
thing  of  consequence  is  Mrs.  Markham's  return." 

"  Don't  carry  this  any  further,  Tom,"  pleaded  Dessie ; 
but  he  paid  no  heed  to  her,  and  continued. 

"  Now,  it's  not  to  do  with  Mrs.  Markham.  Yes,  I 
know  that,"  he  said,  seeing  Dessie  start.  "  But  it  has  to 
do  with  the  man  who  is  going  to  marry  her.  That  I  know 
from  Mrs.  Markham  herself,  because  she  said  that  you 
were  the  same  as  ever  when  you  both  met,  but  that  she 
noticed  the  change  afterwards — after  you  and  this  Count 
de  Montalt  had  met.  I  know,  therefore,  where  to  look 
at  the  start.  Now,  one  question,  and  even  that  I  don't 
press :  Is  there  anything  you  can  tell  me  on  that  head  ?  " 

"  No,  Tom.    All  I  ask  you  is  that  if  you  really  care 


174  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

for  me  you  will  not  make  any  inquiry  at  all.  Leave  things 
where  they  are.  Nothing  can  alter  them." 

"  That  I  cannot  consent  to  do  for  both  our  sakes,  child. 
I  would  rather  you  told  me  everything  freely  and  left  me 
to  judge ;  but  if  you  cannot — and  you  may  in  some  way 
have  been  forced  and  bound  to  secrecy — I  shall  be  the 
last  to  press  you.  But  I  must  find  it  out,  even  if  I  take 
that  scoundrel  by  the  throat  and  wring  the  truth  out  of 
him.  And  I'm  capable  of  doing  that  in  the  last  resort." 

Dessie  shook  her  head  slowly,  and  lifting  her  hands 
let  them  fall  with  a  gesture  of  despondency. 

"  It  can  do  no  good,  Tom,  not  the  least.  If  you  wrung 
everything  out  of  him  it  would  only  show  you  what  this 
bar  between  us  is,  and  how  hopeless." 

His  knowledge  of  her  was  so  shrewd  that  he  could  not 
but  he  impressed  by  her  stolid  insistence  upon  this ;  but  he 
was  vexed  with  himself  at  the  same  time  for  his  inability 
to  resist  the  feeling.  Till  this  moment  he  had  not  gone 
very  close  to  her  side,  but  now  he  moved  very  quickly  to 
her,  and  before  she  could  resist  his  arm  was  round  her 
waist,  her  hand  fast  clasped  in  his  and  her  face  close  to 
his,  while  he  spoke  rapidly  and  with  passion. 

"  Dessie,  you  must  not  cast  me  away  like  this.  You 
haven't  thought  what  you  are  doing.  You  haven't 
thought  what  it  really  is  and  all  that  it  means  to  us  both. 
You  give  me  no  word  of  reason  or  ground,  but  merely 
'  We  must  part.  There  is  a  bar  which  makes  our  mar- 
riage impossible.'  That  must  not  be.  Do  this.  Marry 
me  at  once.  I'll  take  you  on  trust,  sweetheart,  with  all 
the  barriers  and  everything  else.  If  you  don't  love  me 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  love  anywhere.  If  you're  not  as 
genuine  and  true  a  little  woman  as  ever  breathed  there 
is  no  genuineness  in  woman.  Come,  dearest,  kiss  me 
and  say  yes." 


Tom  Cheriton  Intervenes  175 

For  a  moment  she  clung  to  him,  kissing  him  with  quite 
unusual  warmth,  and  he  thought  she  was  consenting. 
But  it  was  only  that  she  found  it  impossible  to  resist  the 
temptation  of  the  caress  he  offered,  even  though  it  should 
be  the  last. 

"  Don't  make  this  harder  for  me  than  it  is,  dear,"  she 
whispered.  "  It  is  worse  than  death  itself  to  part  from 
you.  But  part  we  must.  All  I  can  say  is  that  since  we 
met  last  I  have  discovered  a  reason  I  did  not  know 
before,  which  makes  it  impossible  for  me  to  marry 
you.  I  am  not  fit  to  be  your  wife."  She  said  the  last 
words  slowly  and  falteringly,  and  drooped  her  head. 

Cheriton  took  his  arm  from  her  waist  and  placing  both 
hands  on  her  shoulders  held  her  so  that  their  faces  were 
close  together,  and  she  could  not  help  looking  at  him. 
He  gazed  kindly  and  gravely  into  her  eyes,  and  then 
shaking  his  head,  he  said  gently  and  with  a  smile, 

"  Dessie,  for  the  first  time  since  I've  known  you,  you've 
told  me  what  I  can't  believe.  '  Not  fit  to  be  my  wife.' 
My  dear,  that  is  not  true — and  don't  ever  say  it  again,  or 
try  to  deceive  me  in  that  way.  But  I  won't  make  this 
harder  for  you.  God  knows  I  can  see  it's  hard  enough. 
Listen,  and  don't  try  to  break  away.  Kiss  me  once  more. 
•I  don't  give  you  up,  Dessie.  I  won't.  I  don't  care  what 
you  think  the  bar  is — and  I  don't  mean  to  let  you  continue 
to  think  what  you  do  about  it.  You  are  a  clever  little 
body,  but  in  this  fight  you're  overweighted.  That  man's 
too  many  for  you :  and  he  frightens  you.  But  he  won't 
frighten  me.  And  I'm  going  straight  off  now  to  see 
him." 

"  Don't  go,  Tom.  Please  don't.  You  don't  know  what 
you  are  doing.  I  know  you  want  to  do  what  is  best :  but 
do  believe  me  this  is  impossible.  You  can  only  do  harm. 
Please,  please  don't  go  to  him." 


176  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  My  dear  child,  anyone  who  plays  on  a  woman's  fears 
in  the  way  this  fellow  is  doing  is  a  scoundrel  to  be  faced 
by  a  man  whom  he  can't  bully,  and  not  by  a  woman  whom 
he  can." 

"  But  I  have  done  this  voluntarily.  If  I  could  alter  it, 
I  would  not." 

"  Which  only  shows  me  his  hold  over  you  is  all  the 
stronger.  But  a  thousand  words  won't  move  me  from 
this  purpose,  child.  I  should  be  a  craven  fool  if  I  refused 
to  follow  where  my  love,  my  instinct,  and  my  judgment 
all  point.  Do  you  think  -I  don't  hold  you  worth  a  fight  ? 
Don't  be  too  downcast,  Dessie.  This  will  turn  out  much 
less  terrible  than  you  think  when  I  face  it — and  face  it  I 
will  at  once.  Good-bye;  you  may  kiss  me.  We're  still 
just  as  much  engaged  as  ever;  and  our  marriage  will 
scarcely  be  delayed  an  hour  in  consequence  of  it." 

The  girl  kissed  him,  and  his  resolute  confidence  had 
some  little  effect  in  easing  her  mind ;  but  she  answered : 

"  It's  no  use.  Nothing  can  do  any  good."  Her  tone 
was  not  so  gloomy,  however,  and  her  lover  noticed  this 
with  pleasure  as  he  went  out  of  the  room  with  a  smile 
and  a  cheery  look.  But  his  face  gloomed  and  he  frowned 
in  deep  perplexity  before  he  reached  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs,  so  that  the  housekeeper  who  saw  him  leave  the 
house  thought  he  and  Dessie  had  quarrelled. 

As  he  walked  away  he  was  very  troubled  and  anxious 
at  all  that  had  passed,  but  quite  clear  as  to  his  first  step. 
He  would  see  the  Count  de  Montalt,  or  whoever  he  was, 
and  try  to  get  from  him  a  clue  to  the  mystery. 

He  had  first  to  go  to  his  chambers.  His  uncle  was  no 
Setter,  and  Tom  had  felt  great  reluctance  about  staying 
in  London  the  previous  night.  Telegrams  were  to  be 
sent  to  him  that  day  reporting  progress,  however,  and  his 


Tom  Cheriton  Intervenes  177 

object  now  was  to  ascertain  if  any  had  arrived  during  his 
absence,  and  also  to  arrange  for  their  being  sent  on  to 
him  at  South  Kensington. 

He  was  completely  baffled  by  the  turn  which  things 
had  taken.  It  was  clear  that  in  some  way  this  de  Montalt 
had  gained  some  strong  and  extraordinary  influence  over 
Dessie,  but  why  should  he  use  it  to  prevent  their  mar- 
riage? What  on  earth  could  it  matter  to  that  man 
whether  Dessie  was  married  or  not  ?  For  a  long  time  he 
could  not  get  away  from  that  thought,  and  by  no  in- 
genuity could  he  suggest  an  answer  to  the  question. 

Who  was  the  man?  There  were  several  ways  of  at- 
tempting to  find  out  a  man's  antecedents  and  past  career ; 
but  in  this  case  the  task  seemed  the  more  difficult  because 
he  had  absolutely  nothing  to  go  on.  He  knew  no  more 
about  him  than  that  he  called  himself  the  Count  de  Mon- 
talt, had  picked  up  Mrs.  Markham  through  George 
Vezey,  and  meant  to  marry  her.  Vezey  himself  knew 
nothing. 

He  was  turning  these  considerations  over  and  over  in 
his  thoughts  all  the  way  to  South  Kensington ;  and  could 
get  to  no  satisfactory  conclusion. 

He  found  Mrs.  Markham  and  the  Count  together,  and 
at  once  explained  to  the  former  that  he  wished  to  have  a 
few  minutes'  conversation  with  her  companion  alone. 
The  two  men  went  at  once  to  the  library. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you  about  Miss  Merrion,"  said 
Tom,  plunging  right  into  the  subject.  "  I  have  just  had 
a  long  conversation  with  her,  and  I  gather  from  it  that 
you  have  some  hold  over  her  by  which  you  have  induced 
or  compelled  her  to  take  a  course  which  has  plunged  her 
into  great  unhappiness,  and  Has  caused  her  to  break  off 
her  engagement  to  marry  me." 


178  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  In  what  capacity  do  you  come  to  me  ?  "  asked  de 
Montalt,  with  a  sneer.  "  Do  you  wish  me  to  meddle  in 
your  love  affairs  ?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  said  Tom,  sternly.  "  And  if  you  can- 
not speak  civilly  to  me,  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  not 
speak  at  all." 

The  other  man  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  a  reply. 

"  I  ask  you  first — what  is  the  nature  of  this  hold  you 
have?" 

"  Has  Miss  Merrion  told  you  I  have  any  hold  at  all  ?  " 

"  Miss  Merrion  has  not  told  me  a  syllable  of  any  kind. 
You  have  seemingly  closed  her  lips  with  your  threats. 
But  I  am  speaking  of  what  I  can  see  for  myself." 

"  Then  you  had  better  carry  your  observations  farther, 
and  find  out  the  answers  to  your  own  questions." 

"  Do  you  deny  that  you  have  put  this  pressure  upon 
her?" 

"  I  neither  admit  nor  deny  anything.  I  simply  decline 
to  answer  you.  I  presume  Miss  Merrion  is  able  to  decide 
for  herself ;  and  if  she  doesn't  like  you,  how  can  I  compel 
her  to  marry  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  put  it  in  this  way,"  said  Tom,  passing  over  the 
insult.  "  In  consequence  of  what  has  passed  between 
you  and  Miss  Merrion  this  change  has  been  brought 
about.  Will  you  give  me  any  clue  to  the  reasons  for  it  ?  " 

"  If  I  had  any  I  wouldn't  give  it,"  was  the  curt  and 
angry  reply. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Tom,  firmly.  "  I  have  come  in  the 
first  instance  straight  to  you.  I  have  other  steps  to  take ; 
and  you  will  not  suppose  that  I  intend  to  let  this  matter 
alone  until  I  have  plumbed  it  to  the  bottom.  I  am  not 
without  means  of  ascertaining  all  that  lies  behind,  and 
my  practice  as  a  criminal  barrister  has  taught  me  to  be 
suspicious  of  any  man  who  trades  on  the  fears  of  women 


to  compel  them  to  be  silent.  You  are  doing  that;  and 
I  will  know  the  reason  why.  I  warn  you  well  in  ad- 
vance, and  I  hold  a  clue  to  your  motives  and  your  past 
which  you  have  little  anticipated  would  come  my  way." 

"  When  you  connect  me  with  your  criminal  practice, 
you  forget  yourself,  sir,"  said  de  Montalt,  with  an  as- 
sumption of  greatly  offended  dignity,  as  he  rose  and 
walked  toward  the  door. 

"  I  will  come  with  you,"  said  Tom  readily.  "  My  first 
intention  is  to  explain  your  grossly  dishonourable  con- 
duct to  Mrs.  Markham,  and  I  prefer  greatly  to  do  it  to 
your  face ;  "  and  with  that  they  returned  to  the  room 
where  they  had  left  the  widow.  When  they  entered  the 
room,  however,  there  was  a  surprise  for  them  both,  as 
Dessie  Merrion  was  in  close  conversation  with  her  friend. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   COUNT'S    NEXT    MOVE 

DESSIE  rose  in  some  surprise  not  unmingled  with  alarm 
and  agitation  when  the  two  men  entered ;  and  she  directed 
a  glance  of  somewhat  eager  appeal  at  Cheriton.  But 
though  he  saw  and  understood  the  look,  he  answered  it 
only  by  shaking  his  head  and  smiling  to  her. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  are  here,  Dessie,  as  what  I  have 
to  say  now  concerns  all  who  are  present — you  as  well, 
Mrs.  Markham,  and  I  would  much  rather  say  it  when  we 
are  all  together."  Mrs.  Markham  was  a  little  perplexed 
by  this  opening,  and  looked  toward  her  lover,  who  imme- 
diately went  to  her  side  and  sat  down,  with  a  slight  shrug 
of  the  shoulders  and  a  lifting  of  the  hands  and  eyebrows 
intended  to  suggest  his  complete  inability  to  understand 
Cheriton's  action. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter,  Mr.  Cheriton  ?  "  asked  the 
widow. 

"  Yes,  a  great  deal  is  the  matter,  and  I  want  you  to  help 
to  put  things  right.  You  know  that  Dessie " 

"  Stop,  Tom,"  interrupted  the  girl.  "  You  know  noth- 
ing can  alter  things.  I  have  told  you  so.  This  can  do 
no  good." 

"  My  dear  girl,  I  am  going  my  own  way  in  this,"  he 
answered. 

"  Have  you  two  quarrelled  then  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham,  not  without  a  suspicion  of  a  smile.  In  her  present 

1 80 


The  Count's  Next  Move  1 8 1 

frame  of  mind  a  lovers'  quarrel  was  about  the  most  inter- 
esting thing  on  earth. 

"  Quarrelled?  No,  certainly  not,"  cried  Cheriton,  with 
a  smile.  "  Bessie  and  I  would  never  think  of  doing  any- 
thing like  that.  But  between  us  there  has  come  some 
kind  of  barrier  which  I  think  you — you  and  that  gentle- 
man— "  waving  his  hand  towards  the  Count,  who  smiled, 
"  can  help  to  remove.  That  is,  if  you  will." 

"  If  we  will.  Of  course  we  will,  won't  we,  Godefroi  ?  " 
said  Mrs.  Markham,  with  ready  good  nature. 

"  I  have  already  explained  to  Mr.  Cheriton  that  I  know 
nothing  whatever  about  it,  and  can  do  nothing — much  as 
I  regret  it."  He  added  the  last  sentence  as  a  sort  of  con- 
cession to  Mrs.  Markham's  appeal. 

"  Whatever  does  it  all  mean  ?  "  she  cried,  looking  in 
perplexity  from  one  to  the  other.  "  Have  you  all  got  a 
lot  of  secrets  ?  " 

"It  is  the  secret  I  wish  you  to  help  me  to  find,"  said 
Cheriton,  an  answer  that  puzzled  Mrs.  Markham  more 
than  ever. 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  Dessie  ?  "  she  cried.  "  I  don't 
understand." 

"  This  shall  all  be  made  plain  now,  if  you  will  give  me 
one  moment.  On  the  day  you  were  coming  back — " 

"  Tom !  "  cried  Dessie,  with  an  interrupting  protest. 

"  Dessie  and  I  were  just  the  same  as  usual,"  continued 
Cheriton,  taking  no  notice  of  the  interruption.  "  We  had 
a  cup  of  tea  together  and  a  chat,  and  both  of  us  were 
looking  forward  to  the  time  of  our  marriage.  That  eve- 
ning she  came  here.  You  have  already  told  me  that  she 
was  in  her  usual  spirits  when  she  first  met  you,  and  that 
everything  was  just  the  same  as  usual.  That  evening 
she  was  introduced  to  this  gentleman — " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Markham,  momen- 


1 82  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

tarily  alarmed  that  Tom  was  going  to  say  something 
which  would  show  her  own  love  affair  to  be  in  jeopardy. 
"  What  has  that  to  do  with — with  the  Count  de  Mon- 
talt?" 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  do  not  know ;  what  I  want 
to  know.  I  want  you  to  now  ask  M.  de  Montalt 
whether  he  can  give  you  any  reason  for  this." 

"  Godefroi !  "  asked  Mrs.  Markham,  turning  to  him. 

"  You  had  better  let  Mr.  Cheriton  say  all  he  wishes  to 
say.  If  I  can  help  him  to  a  better  understanding  with 
Miss  Merrion,  though  I  am  a  comparative  stranger,  I 
shall  of  course  be  delighted — for  your  sake."  He 
dropped  his  voice  at  the  last  three  words,  and  pointed 
them  with  a  glance. 

"  I  left  London  the  day  after  Dessie  came  here,"  said 
Tom  Cheriton,  "  and  then  I  got  a  letter  from  Dessie 
hinting  that  some  kind  of  trouble  was  brewing;  then 
another  urging  me  to  come  back  at  once;  and  then  a 
telegram  and  another  letter  couched  in  the  same  urgent 
terms.  I  came,  of  course,  and  as  you  know,  Dessie  was 
away;  no  one  knew  where  or  for  what.  I  waited  until 
to-day,  and  on  going  to  her  rooms  this  afternoon  I 
found  that  gentleman  there — " 

"  Godefroi !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Markham,  starting. 

"  There  had  obviously  been  a  serious  conversation  be- 
tween them,  and  one  of  the  results  was  that  Dessie 
met  me  in  a  condition  of  some  hysterical  emotion;  said 
that  all  was  at  an  end  between  us;  that  she  could  not 
give  me  any  reason  whatever;  that  she  was  bound  to 
silence;  but  that  the  separation  had  nothing  to  do  with 
any  change  in  her  feelings  toward  me.  That  man  is  the 
cause ; "  and  Tom  pointed  at  the  Count,  who  assumed 
the  demeanour  of  a  somewhat  amused  but  quite  uncon- 


The  Count's  Next  Move  183 

cerned  spectator.     "  There  has  been  no  other  possible 
cause  for  this  change  in  Dessie." 

"  Were  you  in  Bessie's  rooms  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Markham 
of  the  Count,  going  straight  to  the  one  part  which 
seemed  to  touch  her  personally,  and  showing  her  sus- 
picions in  her  manner. 

"  My  dear  child,  if  you  will  think  a  moment  you  will 
see  that  I  could  be  nowhere  else,  if  I  wished  to  please 
you,"  answered  the  Count.  "  I  knew  your  anxiety  on 
Miss  Merrion's  account;  I  saw  you  were  troubled;  and 
it  grieved  me.  When  the  telegram  came  from  her  I 
thought  I  would  go  and  see  that  all  was  well  with  this 
eccentric  young  woman  journalist.  If  not,  and  there  was 
bad  news  of  any  kind,  I  should  better  know  how  to  break 
it  to  you  than  anyone  else  in  the  world.  At  least,  I 
thought  so.  I  met  her  at  the  station,  and  walked  with 
her  to  her  rooms.  That  is  all/'  he  said,  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  has  explained  away  a  point  that  need  and 
should  have  puzzled  nobody. 

"  You  need  not  have  gone  in,"  said  the  widow. 

"  We  had  not  finished  talking,  and  there  was  her  bag 
to  carry.  That  is  all,"  he  returned,  lying  blithely  and 
glibly. 

"  What  was  the  subject  of  a  conversation  so  engrossing 
that  you  could  not  finish  it  in  the  street  ?  "  cried  Tom. 

"  Miss  Merrion  may  think  me  rudely  forgetful,"  said 
the  other  man,  with  a  laugh,  "  if  I  have  to  admit  that  I 
have  forgotten  all  except  the  statement  that  there  was 
nothing  the  matter  and  no  cause  for  anyone  to  be  uneasy 
on  her  account.  She  had  been  away  for  private  reasons, 
as  well  as  a  business  engagement.  Was  there  anything 
else,  Miss  Merrion  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  across  at  Dessie. 

"  I  am  stopping  here  only  to  listen.    I  will  not  say  a 


1 84  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

word,"  said  the  girl ;  and  then  added  impetuously,  "  Tom, 
this  is  cruel." 

"  No,  child,  it  is  only  necessary,"  he  returned.  Then 
to  the  Count  he  said,  "  Do  I  understand  you  to  say  that 
Miss  Merrion  is  perfectly  at  liberty  to  say  anything  and 
everything  that  passed  ?  " 

"  At  liberty  ?  How  can  she  be  otherwise  ?  What  right 
have  I  to  impose  restrictions?  Your  conduct  is  most 
extraordinary,"  and  de  Montalt  drew  himself  up  as  in 
anger. 

"  Never  mind  my  conduct.  I  can  look  after  myself, 
thank  you.  You  are  fencing  with  my  question.  Do  you 
now,  in  the  presence  of  all  of  us,  withdraw  the  prohibition 
to  speak  ?  " 

"  That  question  assumes  that  I  have  laid  some  sort  of 
vow  of  perpetual  silence  upon  her — an  altogether  ridicu- 
lous assumption." 

"  Yet  a  correct  one,"  put  in  Tom  sharply. 

"  Nonsense.  Miss  Merrion  is  as  much  mistress  of  her 
own  tongue  as  you  are  of  yours." 

"  You  mean  by  that,  you  will  not  take  any  of  the  steps 
you  have  threatened  if  she  speaks  freely  to  me? 

"  I  mean  that  I  decline  to  be  a  party  to  prolonging  any 
such  ridiculous  scene  as  this.  If  Miss  Merrion  wishes 
to  tell  you  any  secret  that  she  may  have  she  must  be  the 
judge  as  to  the  advisability  of  doing  so.  If  she  will  not, 
well,  you  must  really  scold  her,  not  me."  His  manner 
galled  Cheriton,  but  before  he  could  reply  Mrs.  Markham 
said: 

"  Dessie,  dear,  what  do  you  say  ?  What  is  it  all  ?  Is 
there  anything?  If  so,  why  don't  you  speak?"  Mrs. 
Markham  was  quite  appeased  by  the  Count's  attitude. 

"  I  have  nothing  to  say,"  said  Dessie.  "  Nothing,  that 
\s,  with  any  hope  in  it.  I  have  told  Tom  to-day  all  that 


The  Count's  Next  Move  185 

can  fre  told.  I  can  do  no  more.  I  am  miserable  enough 
already." 

"  Well,  I  must  say  I  think  you  ought  to  speak  out 
plainly.  There  can  be  no  reason  whatever  for  silence 
that  I  can  see.  As  to  the  mistake  which  Mr.  Cheriton 
appears  to  have  made  about  Godefroi — I'm  sure  he  hasn't 
meant  anything  by  it,  but  it's  all  nonsense ;  and  as  Gode- 
froi says,  you  can  turn  your  thoughts  inside  out  for  all 
he  cares.  So  if  you  can  explain,  I  think  you  ought  to." 
There  was  more  than  a  sprinkling  of  vinegar  in  these 
references  to  the  Count,  and  a  quite  unnecessary  sharp- 
ness in  the  manner  in  which,  after  a  slight  pause  while 
she  had  been  waiting  for  Dessie  to  speak,  she  added — 
"  You  must  know,  my  dear,  that  this  kind  of  mysterious 
secrecy  does  more  harm  than  anything  else,  and  destroys 
more  friendships  than  any  other  cause.  It  has  made  me 
feel  quite  uncomfortable  myself;  and  I  do  hope  you'll 
have  no  more  of  it." 

"  This  scene  must  end,"  said  Cheriton,  rather  abruptly, 
as  he  saw  that  they  were  gliding  towards  a  quarrel.  "  I 
began  it,  and  with  but  one  more  word  I  will  finish  my 
part  of  it.  Will  you,  Mrs.  Markham,  put  the  question 
point  blank  to  that  gentleman.  Has  he  or  has  he  not 
had  anything  to  do  with  the  cause  of  this  change?  Can 
he  throw  any  light  upon  it  ?  " 

"  I  have  already  told — "  began  the  Count,  when  Cheri- 
ton interrupted  him  bluntly. 

"  I  have  not  asked  you  to  answer  me.  Will  you 
do  this,  Mrs.  Markham?"  He  turned  questioningly  to 
her. 

"  I  see  no  object  to  be  gained,  Mr.  Cheriton.  I  should 
only  be  expressing  a  doubt  of  yours  which  I  do  not 
share." 

"  Can't  you  see  that  we  are  all  drifting  out  to  sea,  Tom, 


1 86  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

the  longer  this  continues  ?  "  exclaimed  Dessie,  anxiously. 
"  I  tell  you  again  and  again,  nothing  can  be  done." 

"  We  are  at  sea  already,  I  think,"  he  answered,  irri- 
tated by  his  complete  failure.  "  But  as  for  doing  noth- 
ing, that  shall  be  my  business.  I  am  sorry  to  have  trou- 
bled you,  Mrs.  Markharn,  but  much  more  sorry  that  you 
have  interpreted  my  conduct  as  I  fear  you  have." 

While  he  was  speaking  the  servant  brought  in  a  tele- 
gram for  him.  He  glanced  at  it  and  rose  at  once. 

"  I  should  like  a  word  with  you  before  I  go,  Dessie," 
he  said.  "  My  uncle  is  not  so  well,  and  they  have  wired 
for  me  to  go  back  at  once,"  he  said,  when  they  were 
alone.  "  Now  my  last  word  is  this — I  won't  release  you 
from  your  promise.  You  must  marry  me.  I  won't  rest 
until  I  have  bottomed  this ;  and  then  that  sneering  impu- 
dent beggar  may  look  out  for  himself." 

"  I  am  as  resolute  as  you.  There  is  nothing  to  bottom 
— except  that  which  must  keep  us  apart  for  always. 
Don't  harbour  a  false  hope,  Tom.  There  is  no  hope. 
Absolutely  none."  She  spoke  with  a  despairing  con- 
viction that  greatly  impressed  and  disturbed  her  lover. 
Dessie  saw  this,  and  added  with  a  smile  as  they  shook 
hands :  "  You  know  I'm  not  easily  frightened,  Tom. 
But  this  is  beyond  both  you  and  me.  If  I  could  only 
tell  you  all,  you  would  see  it  as  I  see  it,  and  feel  that 
whatever  you  do  you  can  only  add  to  the  misery  and 
wretchedness.  But  we  must  get  over  that  and  be — 
friends." 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone  the  girl  went  to  her  room. 
She  thought  it  probable  that  the  little  misunderstanding 
with  Mrs.  Markham  might  have  some  effect  upon  their 
present  relations;  and  it  was  more  than  likely  that  it 
would  be  judicious  for  Dessie  to  plead  pressure  of  work 
and  go  back  to  her  own  rooms. 


The  Count's  Next  Move  187 

Mrs.  Markham  was  undoubtedly  irritated,  and  the 
Count  de  Montalt  had  been  quick  to  observe  it  and  to 
turn  it  to  his  own  advantage.  As  soon  as  Dessie  and 
Tom  Cheriton  had  left  the  room  he  said : 

"  This  is  a  very  unpleasant  incident,  Dora.  I  object 
strongly  to  such  treatment  as  this  gentleman  thinks  good 
enough  for  me.  Had  it  not  been  here  in  your  house 
I  should  have  resented  it,  and  either  have  turned  him 
out  or  left  myself.  It  was  not  for  this  that  I  came  to 
England,"  he  continued  with  an  air  of  offended  dignity, 
"  and  I  must  consider  what  course  to  take." 

"  Mr.  Cheriton  is  no  favourite  of  mine,"  said  Mrs. 
Markham  quickly.  She  was  afraid  of  the  effect  of 
de  Montalt's  anger.  "  If  you  wish  it,  I  will  never  speak 
to  him  again." 

"  You  must  follow  your  own  wishes,  of  course.  Natur- 
ally, I  will  never  exchange  another  word  with  him  as  long 
as  I  live.  But  there  is  more  than  that — the  whole  in- 
cident has  distressed  me.  Who  is  this  Miss  Merrion  that 
all  her  fancies  and  tempers  and  moods  are  to  be  made  the 
cause  of  insults  to  me  from  her  friends  ?  I  am  not  used 
to  it.  I  Hope  I  have  some  stronger  purpose  in  life  than 
to  study  the  whims  of  an  erratic  young  woman  of  this 
kind." 

"  She  has  been   my   friend — "  began   Dora,   quietly. 

"  Yes,  your  friend ;  and  therefore  her  friends  must 
needs  think  it  necessary  to  come  and  browbeat  and 
insult  me,  and  set  us  two  by  the  ears,  and  make  this  mis- 
chief. I  will  not  have  it."  And  he  got  up  and  walked 
up  and  down  the  room,  Mrs.  Markham  watching  him 
nervously  and  in  silence. 

Sfie  did  not  want  to  have  any  disagreement  with  Des- 
sie, but  she  was  more  afraid  of  offending  the  man  she 
loved ;  so  between  the  two  she  was  very  anxious. 


1 88  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  I'm  not  wishing  to  come  between  you  and  youi 
friends,  Dora,"  said  the  man.  "  That  shall  never  be 
said  of  me.  I  have  only  one  aim  in  life  now — to  promote 
your  happiness.  I  want  to  increase  the  number  of  your 
friends,  not  take  them  away ;  real  friends,  I  mean ; 

but "  he  appeared  to  hesitate,  and  then  added,  as  if 

struck  with  a  sudden  thought,  "  I  tell  you  what  I  think 
will  be  best.  Let  us  put  off  our  marriage.  Nay,  per- 
haps better,  end  the  engagement  altogether;  I " 

"  Godefroi !  "  cried  Mrs.  Markham,  in  alarmed  protest, 
getting  up  to  go  to  him. 

"  Yes ;  I  mean  it.  It  will  be  best.  You  can  then  satisfy 
these  meddling  friends  of  yours.  What  does  it  matter  to 
us?  We  love  each  other.  We  can  wait  six  months,  a 
year,  two  years,  any  time — while  they  are  satisfying 
themselves  that  I  am  not  an  ogre — or  at  least  not  such 
an  outrageous  scoundrel  as  your  barrister-friend  insinu- 
ated just  now.  By  heavens,  I  will  not  have  that  thought 
of  me." 

"  He  is  no  friend  of  mine,"  cried  the  widow,  her  fears 
growing.  "  He  is  nothing  to  me — less  than  nothing. 
What  do  I  care  for  his  opinion  ?  I  will  never  see  him  or 
speak  to  him  again." 

"  That  may  be,  but  there  are  others.  I  understand 
this.  I  see  what  it  means."  He  spoke,  angrily,  and 
gesticulated  impatiently.  "  I  have  eyes  and  wits  of  my 
own.  I  can  see  the  insinuations  that  these  people  cast — 
this  Miss  Merrion  among  the  rest.  They  think — but 
there,  I  know,  and  you  know  what  friends  of  the  kind 
do  think.  Morbleu!  Do  you  think  I  can  bear  that. 
I,  who  love  you  with  all  my  heart ;  and  who  would  fifty 
thousand  times  rather  that  you  were  a  beggar,  like  them- 
selves, that  I  might  shew  my  love.  No,  Dora ;  I  love  you 
with  all  my  heart  and  my  soul.  Had  we  met  years  ago 


The  Count's  Next  Move  189 

our  lives  would  have  been  one  long  path  of  happiness. 
But  we  have  met  too  late."  As  he  said  this  he  stopped 
intentionally  quite  close  to  her  and  gazed  down  into  her 
eyes,  as  if  with  the  pain  of  infinite  regret. 

Then  she  threw  herself  into  his  arms  and  clung  to  him 
and  embraced  and  caressed  him,  herself  weeping,  and 
with  all  the  protestations  of  a  deep  passion  besought 
him  to  recall  his  words  and  to  love  her;  vowing  that  no 
one  in  the  world  should  ever  come  between  them,  and  that 
if  he  did  not  marry  her  she  would  kill  herself. 

Everything  thus  went  as  he  intended,  and  he  exacted 
two  conditions  as  the  terms  of  peace :  That  the  marriage 
should  take  place  that  day  week;  and  that  Dessie  should 
be  asked  to  go  home. 

Peace  had  been  established  some  time  when  the  girl 
entered  the  room  again.  The  scene  with  her  lover  had 
made  Mrs.  Markham  irritable  towards  others,  and  as  she 
had  taken  her  cue  from  the  Count  and  remembered  Des- 
sie's  previously  stated  dislike  to  him,  her  manner  was  not 
pleasant. 

"  You've  been  a  long  time  with  Mr.  Cheriton,  Dessie, 
considering  that,  as  you  say,  all  is  at  an  end  between 
you." 

a  Tom  went  within  five  minutes  of  leaving  this  room," 
answered  the  girl,  after  a  glance  of  momentary  astonish- 
ment at  her  friend's  tone.  "  I  have  been  upstairs." 

"  I  hope  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  end  this 
mysterious  secrecy.  It  is  very  unpleasant  for  everyone.'* 

"  I  should  be  only  too  glad  to  end  it,  Dora,  if  I  could. 
•I  should  not  break  my  heart  and  spoil  my  life  for  the 
mere  fun  of  the  thing,"  she  answered,  beginning  to  re- 
sent the  widow's  manner. 

At  that  moment  the  Count  rose.  He  scented  the  com- 
ing storm,  and  had  no  wish  to  interfere  with  it. 


1 90  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  Don't  go,  Godefroi,"  said  Dora,  laying  a  hand  on 
his  arm  to  detain  him,  and  looking  unusually  determined. 
He  sat  down  again  to  listen.  "  I  want  to  say  something 
to  Dessie  while  you  are  here.  For  some  reason  or  other 
she  has  set  herself  against  you,  and  we  have  had  more 
than  one  talk  about  it.  I  want  her  now  to  know,  while  we 
are  all  together,  that  I  take  her  prejudice  against  you 
as  hostile  to  myself,  and  as  something  particularly  dis- 
tasteful. Do  you  understand  me,  Dessie?"  she  askedj 
turning  to  her. 

"  I  can  scarcely  fail  to  understand  what  that  means, 
Dora." 

"  Well,  when  I  tell  you  that  we  have  determined  to  be 
married  this  day  week " 

"  So  soon !  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  starting,  and  looking 
uneasy. 

"  Yes,  so  soon.  Have  you  any  objection  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Markham,  with  a  look  of  sarcasm.  "  You  are  very  pe- 
culiar, Dessie,  very  peculiar  indeed  about  my  marriage. 
One  would  suppose  I  don't  know  what — to  hear  and  see 
you.  It  is  very  unfortunate  that  we  have  this  difference. 
You  and  I  have  always  been  such  good  friends  that  I 
thought  it  would  be  the  greatest  pleasure  in  the  world 
for  us  to  be  together  at  such  a  time ;  but  you  act  in  such 
a  singular  way  that " 

Dessie  looked  hard  at  the  Count  de  Montalt,  on  whose 
face,  half  averted,  she  seemed  to  see  a  smile  of  mocking 
triumph  under  the  forced  expression  of  indifference,  and 
then  a  sharp  glance  at  her  friend  showed  her  that  the 
latter  was  flushed  with  irritation,  but  so  far  nervous  as 
to  suggest  that  she  was  really  putting  some  compulsion 
on  herself  to  take  a  step  she  did  not  like. 

"  I  understand  you  now,  Dora,  at  any  rate,"  said  the 
girl.  "  You  are  being  hurried,  whether  you  know  it  or 


The  Count's  Next  Move  191 

not,  into  this  marriage,  and  part  of  the  arrangement  is 
that  you  and  I  should  be  separated.  I  will  go,  my  dear, 
without  any  further  words." 

She  rose  and  walked  to  the  door,  and  then  turned  and 
said,  "  Before  I  go  I  shall  see  you,  but  let  it  be  alone." 
And  then  she  went  out,  leaving  both  her  hearers  with 
the  impression  that  she  had  had  the  best  of  the  encounter. 

It  was  hard  that  at  such  a  moment  this  additional  blow 
should  have  been  struck,  and  Dessie  felt  this;  but  she 
would  not  give  the  feeling  rein,  and  her  chief  thought  as 
she  went  away  to  get  ready  to  leave  was  one  of  dismay 
that  the  marriage  was  to  take  place  so  soon,  and  that  she 
could  not  stop  it. 


CLOSING  IN 

IT  was  with  a  very  brave  but  sad  heart  that  Dessie  Mer- 
rion  faced  the  new  development  in  her  affairs.  Very  little 
was  said  either  by  her  or  Mrs.  Markham  before  she  left 
Edgcumbe  Square,  although  both  felt  the  estrangement 
keenly.  Mrs.  Markham,  on  her  side,  would  not  press 
Dessie  to  stay,  for  fear  of  giving  offence  to  the  Count 
de  Montalt;  while  the  girl,  on  her  side,  was  too  hurt  to 
say  a  word. 

She  passed  the  evening  giving  those  little  touches  of 
arrangement  to  her  rooms  which  her  taste  suggested — 
the  little  simple  changes  which  gave  the  place  such  an 
air  of  homeliness  and  comfort. 

Afterwards,  she  went  through  the  papers  in  the  safe, 
to  ascertain  which  had  been  stolen  by  the  Count ;  and  she 
soon  ascertained  that  he  had  gained  all  his  knowledge 
from  the  little  diary  in  which  she  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  jotting  down  notes  of  important  events,  sometimes  in 
shorthand,  and  sometimes  in  a  kind  of  cypher;  just  a 
date,  or  a  line  of  reference,  and  only  very  rarely  with  any 
fulness.  It  was  this  book  which  had  betrayed  her;  and 
the  loss  of  it  set  her  dreaming  and  thinking  of  the  curious 
facts  in  her  life — which  it  chronicled  so  briefly. 

Gradually  her  thoughts  settled,  and  the  great  care 
which  had  come  swooping  down  on  her  life,  like  a  huge 
dark  cloud,  absorbed  them. 

It  was  inevitable  that  she  should  have  grave  doubts 

102 


Closing  In  193 

about  tfie  prudence  of  the  course  she  had  taken,  as  well 
as  of  the  right  of  it.  At  the  bottom  of  all  her  thoughts 
was  the  passionate  protest  against  losing  the  man  she 
loved,  and  it  filled  her  with  dismay  to  think  of  what  life 
would  be  without  him. 

"  How  shall  I  be  able  to  go  on  living  day  after  day, 
week  after  week,  without  the  thought  that  the  day  is 
some  time  to  dawn  which  will  see  us  man  and  wife? 
It  was  the  salt  of  my  life:  The  one  thing  that  kept  all 
else  fresh  and  sweet  and  pleasant,  and  made  life  worth 
living.  But  now  " — she  sighed,  deeply  and  heavily. 

"  I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  have  told  him.  If  I  ought 
to  have  dared  that  devil  to  do  his  worst.  But  there — 
how  could  I  marry  him?  How  could  I  bear  to  pass  my 
life  waiting  for  the  blow  to  fall  that  would  let  the  world 
know  that  his  wife  was  the  sister  of  a  murderess  ?  How 
hard  this  world  is!  The  sins  of  the  fathers  are  visited 
upon  the  children,  indeed!  And  yet,  what  have  I  ever 
done  to  deserve  this?  Been  born  the  daughter  of — of 
such  a  father.  Happy  the  woman  who  has  no  need  to 
think  with  shame  of  a  father's  life ! " 

Then  came  another  pause  in  the  thread. 

"  I  wish  I  was  twenty  years  older.  If  I  was  only  forty- 
five — I  wonder  what  I  shall  be  at  forty,  or  if  I  shall  live 
so  long,  and  what  my  life  will  be  like.  I  suppose  there 
will  come  a  time  when  I  shall  be  able  to  think  about  my 
work  again.  To  take  the  drab-coloured  warp  of  reality 
and  weave  in  the  fancy-coloured  threads  of  my  little 
puppets'  lives.  Well,  I  shall  now  be  able  to  write  realisti- 
cally enough  about  sorrow  and  trouble,  and  heart-sicken- 
ing disappointment!  And  I  shall  have  to  go  on  doing 
that  till  I  die.  A  lonely  figure,  probably  shabby,  seared 
with  the  lines  of  trouble  on  my  face,  but  always  alone, 
because  carrying  a  burden  of  secrecy  that  not  a  soul  may 


1 94  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

share.  I  suppose  if  I  go  out  to-morrow  and  use  my  eyes 
in  the  streets  I  shall  see  fifty  little  old  women,  any  one 
of  whom  will  stand  to  me  for  a  type  of  what  I  shall  be 
in  the  future.  I,  who  have  done  nothing ;  while  that  man 
whose  life  has  been  saturated  with  evil  deeds —  But 
I'm  a  fool  to  talk  like  this ;  I  must  do  something,"  and 
jumping  up  she  found  some  work,  and  forced  herself  to 
doit. 

But  the  evening  was  a  most  lonesome  and  wretched 
one,  and  despite  her  most  resolute  efforts  her  thoughts 
would  go  back  to  her  lover.  Everything  in  the  place 
seemed  to  remind  her  of  him. 

In  the  morning  she  was  less  low-spirited.  The  second 
post  brought  her  a  letter  from  Tom  Cheriton,  which  gave 
her  heart,  though  it  nearly  brought  tears  to  her  eyes. 

"  D.  D. — Same  as  ever  you  see,  and  refuse  ever  to  be 
different.  The  uncle  very  bad,  and  very  glad  to  see  me 
to-night.  I  told  him  all  about  you ;  and  you'll  have  to 
come  down  here.  I  painted  you  in  such  colours  that  I 
think  he's  in  love  with  you  himself.  You'll  have  a 
surprise  to-morrow,  I  expect.  I'm  not  going  to  be  idle, 
I  can  tell  you.  So  look  out.  T." 

"  P.S. — Keep  a  bag  packed  to  come  down  here  in  case 
of  emergency.  But  you'll  hear  all  about  it." 

Dessie  read  the  letter  over  and  over  again,  and  tried 
to  pretend  that  it  did  not  make  her  hopeful.  But  it  did 
for  a  long  time;  until  she  ran  over  in  thought  again  all 
the  terrible  consequences  to  her  sister  and  herself  which 
must  follow  if  she  dared  to  set  the  Count  de  Montalt  at 
defiance. 

There  was  no  escape.  All  the  hopefulness  and  resolu- 
tion in  the  world  could  not  battle  against  the  one  grim 
fact  that  the  man  could  send  her  sister  to  the  dock  and 


Closing  In  195 

probably  to  the  gallows,  if  they  dared  to  interfere  with 
him. 

Thus  the  hope  which  her  lover's  little  letter  kindled 
was  extinguished,  but  the  perplexity  at  some  of  the  refer- 
ences remained.  "  You'll  have  a  surprise  to-morrow !  " 
What  surprise  ?  What  could  he  be  going  to  do  ?  Some- 
thing kindly  meant,  of  course,  but  what  could  it  be? 
And  the  more  frequently  she  read  the  letter  the  less 
could  she  understand  it. 

She  tried  to  start  writing  a  little  story,  but  her  thoughts 
would  only  run  in  one  groove,  and  she  sat  biting  the 
end  of  the  pen  and  guessing  what  Tom  meant  by  the 
"  surprise." 

She  idled  unwillingly  but  irresistibly  in  this  way  for  an 
hour  or  two,  until  work  being  out  of  the  question  she 
resolved  to  go  for  a  walk.  As  she  went  out  she  gave 
instructions,  clear  and  explicit  enough  now  that  under 
no  circumstances  was  anyone  ever  to  be  admitted  to  her 
rooms  in  her  absence. 

"  Not  that  it  would  have  mattered  much,"  she 
thought.  "  If  that  man  meant  to  get  into  the  rooms  and 
rummage  them  he  would  have  done  it  whatever  pre- 
cautions Mrs.  Tonkin  might  have  taken.  He  would 
have  broken  in  if  necessary."  Her  walk  cheered  and 
braced  her  a  bit,  and  after  a  light  dinner,  which  she 
took  at  a  small  club  of  which  she  was  a  member,  she 
returned  home  determined  to  go  to  work. 

The  Count  de  Montalt  had  called  during  her  absence 
she  was  told,  and  had  left  a  message  that  he  wished  to 
see  her  on  urgent  business  that  afternoon  early. 

She  had  indeed  partly  anticipated  that  he  would  pay 
her  a  visit.  She  had  done  nothing  toward  carrying  out 
tHe  second  part  of  the  bargain  with  the  Count — the  res- 
toration of  the  jewels.  Probably  he  had  called  for  them. 


1 96  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

He  arrived  almost  before  she  had  had  time  to  take 
off  her  hat,  and  his  manner  now  was  considerably 
changed  towards  her.  It  was  no  longer  effusively  polite, 
but  inclined  rather  to  bully  and  threaten. 

"  I  was  surprised  not  to  see  you  this  morning,"  he 
said,  somewhat  brusquely.  "  You  must  have  expected 
me,  and  you  know,  of  course,  the  object  of  my  visit." 

"'What  is  it?" 

"  I  have  come  for  the  jewels  of  mine  which  you  have 
in  your  possession." 

"  They  are  not  here/'  said  Dessie,  quite  as  abruptly. 
"  I  forgot  to  get  them,  and  they  are  not  here." 

"You  can  get  them.  The  Deposit  Company's 
Safe  Depot  is  close  here.  I  am  not  to  be  trifled  with.  I 
thought  you  knew  that." 

"  I  am  not  trifling  with  you ;  but  I  will  not  do  anything 
in  a  hurry,"  she  answered.  "  You  know,  too  well,  that  to 
use  your  means  of  forcing  me  must  result  only  in  spoiling 
your  own  plans.  I  am  not  Dora,"  said  Dessie,  looking  at 
him  resolutely. 

"  No,  not  Dora ;  Dorothy,"  he  answered  significantly — 
"  Dorothy  Marlow." 

"  I  understand  your  implied  threat,  but  it  is  mere 
empty  air  in  this  case,"  retorted  Dessie.  "  I  shall  do 
what  I  said — but  I  shall  do  it  in  my  own  way.  You 
seem  to  think  that  all  are  like  yourself — never  to  be 
trusted  to  do  a  thing  unless  the  whip  is  always  lifted." 

"  The  whip  I  lift  has  blood  knots  in  the  lash,"  he 
answered,  angrily,  "  and  I  do  not  suppose  you  are  likely 
to  act  out  of  sheer  affection." 

He  ended  with  a  sneering  laugh. 

Dessie  made  no  reply  to  this;  and  after  a  pause  he 
continued,  in  quite  a  changed  tone — one  of  half  banter, 
half  seriousness. 


Closing  In  197 

"  I  suppose  if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  I  am  really  sorry 
to  have  had  to  put  this  trouble  on  you  you  would  not 
believe  me.  Yet  it's  true,  and " 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  permitting  you  to  address  a 
single  word  more  than  this  business  renders  absolutely 
necessary,"  interposed  Dessie,  with  angry  curtness. 

"  Yet  it  is  true — absolutely  true,"  he  continued,  not 
noticing  her  interruption,  "  and  nothing  would  please 
me  better  than  to  hit  on  some  way  of  avoiding  the  trouble 
altogether." 

"  You  can  do  that  easily  by  giving  up  this  mean  and 
infamous  plan  of  marrying  my  friend  for  her  money," 
rapped  out  the  girl. 

"  Should  I  break  her  heart  and  my  own  merely  be- 
cause she  chances  to  be  rich  ?  "  he  asked,  in  reply,  show- 
ing his  white  teeth  in  a  smile,  and  throwing  up  his  hands 
in  mock  dismay.  "  I  mean  some  practical  way,  of  course 
— something  in  reason." 

"  This  interview  is  exceedingly  distasteful  to  me,"  said 
Dessie.  "  If  you  have  any  further  object  to  gain,  be  good 
enough  to  state  it  at  once." 

"  There  is  the  pleasure  of  being  in  your  society,  Miss 
— Merrion,"  was  the  answer,  with  a  slight  pause  before 
the  name. 

"  If  that  is  all,  my  pleasure  will  be  secured  by  your 
leaving  me.  A  wild  beast  may  play  too  long  with  its 
victim,  remember,  and  the  latter  may  escape.  It  is  not 
by  any  means  too  late  for  me  to  recall  the  word  I  gave — " 

"  You  pride  yourself  on  keeping  your  word,"  he  put  in, 
quickly,  with  a  sneer. 

"  You  are  reducing  me  to  a  condition  in  which  I  have 
no  pride  left  for  anything,"  was  her  retort.  "  But  do  not 
mistake  me.  I  am  taking  my  course  as  the  result  of 
calculation,  and  it  is  no  part  of  that  calculation  to  be 


198  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

pestered  with  your  presence.  You  will  perhaps  be 
tempted  to  keep  away  from  me  for  the  future,  when  I 
tell  you  that  every  time  I  see  you  I  am  shaken  with 
doubt  whether  I  dare  comply  with  your  terms,  and  sacri- 
fice my  friend  even  to  save  my  sister.  Your  presence 
revives  every  instinct  of  dread  of  you,  till  I  am  wild  with  a 
desire  to  rush  and  tell  Dora  the  truth.  Don't  come  here 
again,  or  the  temptation  to  dare  all  for  the  truth's  sake 
will  be  more  than  I  can  resist,"  she  cried,  angrily,  as  she 
rose  from  her  chair. 

The  Count  rose  also. 

"  You  hold  your  life  cheap,"  he  said,  with  a  glance  of 
anger.  "  If  you  want  to  be  rid  of  it,  do  what  you  say. 
And  now,  what  about  the  jewels?  When  will  you  give 
them  up,  and  how  ?  " 

"  I  will  have  them  here  on  Monday,  in  the  afternoon, 
if  I  have  not  changed  my  mind  in  the  meantime  and 
taken  courage  to  tell  the  truth." 

He  went  without  a  reply,  and  Dessie,  shaken  in  her 
resolve  by  her  own  words,  sat  down  again  in  great  agita- 
tion. 

The  thought  of  Dora  in  the  power  of  this  remorseless 
and  utterly  reckless  scoundrel  was  indescribably  distress- 
ing, and  the  sense  of  absolute  powerlessness  which  her 
present  isolation  intensified,  made  her  misery  almost  un- 
endurable. 

The .  Count  de  Montalt's  visit  and  the  whirlpool  of 
thoughts  which  followed  it  rendered  work  impossible  for 
the  rest  of  that  day,  and  in  the  night  she  was  troubled  and 
restless.  It  increased  her  perplexity,  too,  that  nothing 
followed  the  hint  which  Tom  Cheriton  had  dropped  in 
his  letter.  Moreover,  on  the  following  morning,  there 
was  no  letter  from  him ;  and  Dessie  felt  really  ill  owing 
to  the  suspense,  and  lack  of  sleep  and  despondency. 


Closing  In  199 

Early  in  the  forenoon  she  had  a  visitor — Sir  E.  Lan- 
dale,  and  as  she  connected  him  now  with  de  Montalt,  the 
visit  angered  her. 

"  You  are  looking  very  ill,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  saw 
her. 

"  Your  visit  will  not  make  me  well,"  she  retorted^ 
sharply.  "  Had  I  known  you  were  coming  here,  I  would 
not  have  had  you  admitted.  If  you  wish  to  save  yourself 
the  indignity  of  being  shown  out  by  the  housekeeper, 
you  will  not  stay  here." 

"  I  mean  well  by  you ;  I  declare  I  do.  I  will  do  any- 
thing to  help  you  in  this  trouble.  I  know  the  cause  of 
it " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  cried  the  girl,  who  was  so  anx- 
ious that  she  was  interested  in  spite  of  herself.  "  What 
more  do  you  know  than  I  told  you  when  you — well,  you 
know  what  I  mean  ?  "  she  finished,  with  a  curl  of  the  lip 
that  showed  her  contempt. 

"  Whatever  I  know  I  can  keep  to  myself,"  answered 
the  baronet,  cautiously,  noticing  her  fresh  anxiety.  "  I 
have  come  to  tell  you  again  that  I  love  you.  You  are 
alone,  absolutely  alone  in  all  this.  For  the  second  time 
in  your  life  you  have  had  to  make  a  big  break  up  of 
your  life " 

"  Ah,  you  have  seen  de  Montalt  again,"  said  Dessie, 
seeing  the  evidence  of  this  in  his  words.  He  winced  a 
little. 

"  If  I  have,  what  then  ?  I  have  no  thought  but  your 
good — if  you  will  do  what  I  want.  Marry  me,  Dessie,  and 
make  an  end  of  the  whole  trouble.  You  can  never  marry 
Cheriton.  You  know  that  you  can't  go  on  living  here — 
doing  more  than  a  man's  work  for  a  girl's  pay  that 
barely  keeps  you  alive.  You  may  think  you  can  do  it 
for  a  time ;  but  how  are  you  going  to  keep  it  up  ?  You're 


2oo  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

looking  now  as  ill  as  a  dog.  Give  it  up.  You've  made 
a  plucky  fight  of  it,  and  it  isn't  your  fault  you're  beaten. 
But  you  are  beaten.  You  can't  help  it.  Give  yourself  to 
me.  I  know  I  acted  like  a  brute  years  ago ;  but  on  my 
soul  I  want  nothing  better  than  a  chance  of  showing  you 
I'm  sorry." 

He  paused  a  moment  in  the  hope  that  her  silence, 
which  was  unbroken  by  any  sign  of  protest  on  her  part, 
might  promise  him  well. 

Dessie  had  waited  while  he  spoke,  not  looking  at  him, 
but  with  her  head  bent  down.  She  raised  it  now  to  look 
at  him. 

"  Go  on,"  she  said  calmly.  "  You've  not  finished.  Let 
me  hear  all  you  have  to  say." 

"  It's  all  summed  up  in  one  sentence,"  he  said.  "  I 
want  you  to  marry  me.  If  you  will  but  say  yes,  you 
can  step  in  a  moment  from  the  lonely  life  of  this  place, 
with  all  its  hard,  grinding,  hopeless  work,  into  a  life  that 
I  swear  shall  have  enough  of  brightness  and  prosperity 
and  wealth  in  it  to  distract  even  your  thoughts  from 
the  fact  that  I  was  once  so  miserably  unworthy  of  you. 
Will  you  marry  me  ?  " 

"  Have  you  anything  else  to  say  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  hard, 
curt  tone. 

"  Only  the  one  plea — I  love  you  now  as  I  thought  I 
never  could  love." 

"  Then  here  is  my  answer.  I  would  not  marry  you, 
if  the  choice  lay  between  your  wealth  and  the  workhouse. 
I  have  no  more  to  say ;  "  and  she  opened  the  door  and 
held  it  for  the  Baronet  to  go  out. 

"  I  will  try  to  make  you,  yet — and  I  have  the  power 
now." 

"Yes,  that  is  your  love;  I  knew  it,"  she  said,  with  a 


Closing  In  201 

mocking  laugh;  and  she  met  his  eyes  steadily  as  he 
went  out  of  the  room  like  a  whipped  dog. 

But  no  sooner  had  the  door  closed  on  him  than  the 
fear  rose  to  her  thoughts  that,  if  de  Montalt  and  this 
man  were  really  in  league,  a  marriage  with  him  might 
be  made  part  of  the  terms.  And  the  thought  sickened  and 
frightened  her,  adding  even  to  her  previous  misery. 

"  I  cannot  do  it.  I  would  rather  die,  ten  thousand 
times  rather,"  she  said  to  herself;  and  in  this  mood  she 
sat,  strengthening  herself  in  this  resolve,  and  infinitely 
sad,  as  she  seemed  to  find  every  avenue  of  hope  closing 
against  her,  while  one  after  another  the  courses  she 
would  have  chosen  were  becoming  impossible. 

She  could  not  confide  in  her  lover;  she  was  driven  to 
sacrifice  her  friend;  a  marriage  with  a  man  she  despised 
seemed  likely  to  be  forced  upon  her;  and  on  every  hand 
she  saw  the  objects  she  desired  kept  from  her,  and  those 
she  loathed  forced  upon  her. 

Yet,  which  ever  way  she  turned  the  knowledge  that 
a  word  from  de  Montalt  could  send  her  sister  to  the 
dock  was  more  than  enough  to  completely  unnerve  and 
frighten  her. 

She  was  in  this  mood  of  deepest  dejection  when  she 
was  disturbed  by  someone  knocking  at  the  door. 

She  went  and  opened  it,  and  then  stood  for  a  moment 
staring  in  blank  surprise  at  her  visitor. 

She  knew  her  in  a  moment,  though  they  had  met  only 
once  before,  and  then  for  only  a  few  minutes. 

It  was  the  woman  who  had  been  with  Rolande  Les- 
pard  when  the  latter  was  arrested.  Dessie  was  so  sur- 
prised that  her  lips  could  not  frame  the  question  that 
rose  to  them,  as  to  the  possible  reason  for  the  visit.  But 
her  visitor  seemed  to  guess  the  question,  and  taking  the 


2O2  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

girl's  hands  in  hers,  she  pressed  them,  and  then  kissed 
her  pale  face  and  whispered : 

"  You  are  surprised,  of  course.     But  I  come  from  Mr. 
Cheriton — your  Tom." 


CHAPTER  XIX 
DESSIE'S  VISITOR 

BESSIE'S  surprise  when  she  recognised  her  visitor  was 
so  intense  that  she  could  not  overcome  it.  When  they 
had  both  sat  down  she  kept  looking  at  the  newcomer, 
while  a  rush  of  confused  thoughts  perplexed  and  be- 
wildered her. 

What  did  the  visit  mean  ?  Was  the  woman  really  from 
Tom?  Was  there  some  fresh  treachery  underneath  it? 
Was  it  some  new  trick  of  the  Count's  to  catch  her  in  a 
further  complication.  One  after  another  questions  of 
this  kind  crossed  her  thoughts,  as  she  recalled  how 
egregiously  deceived  she  had  been  lately  in  all  directions. 

She  had  quickly  come  to  associate  the  unexpected  with 
danger ;  and  at  first  her  suspicions  predominated  over  all 
feelings  except  surprise,  and  she  sat  scanning  the  elder 
woman  sharply  and  cautiously. 

Her  scrutiny  reassured  her  somewhat;  but  her  recent 
experiences  made  her  unwilling  to  place  too  much  con- 
fidence in  any  stranger. 

"  It  is  five  years  since  we  met?  "  she  said  suspiciously, 
breaking  the  long  silence,  and  implying  a  question  in  the 
tone  of  her  voice,. 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  the  day ;  I  never  shall  forget  it. 
If  you  have  got  over  your  surprise  and  your  suspicions 
of  me — I  do  not  blame  you  for  them,  but  you  need  not 
harbour  them — I  will  tell  you  everything  that  brings  me 
here  to-day." 

203 


204  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

Dessie  said  nothing;  but  hungry  impatience  lighted 
her  eyes,  as  she  fixed  them  on  her  companion's  face. 

"  I  have  had  a  journey,"  said  the  latter,  pleasantly, 
and  speaking  in  a  composed,  reassuring,  friendly  manner. 
"  May  I  take  off  my  wraps  ?  "  She  threw  aside  her  cape, 
and  Dessie's  quick  eyes  noted  in  an  instant  that  every- 
thing she  wore  was  very  good  and  very  fashionable. 

When  she  sat  down  again  it  was  close  to  Dessie;  so 
close  that  she  could  take  the  girl's  hand. 

"  Will  you  kiss  me,  Dessie  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  right 
into  her  eyes.  "  And  try  and  trust  me  as  much  as  Tom 
himself  does  ?  "  Dessie  kissed  her  readily,  partly  moved 
by  the  mention  of  that  name,  and  partly  yielding  to  the 
interested  regard  she  had  felt  when  they  had  last  met. 

"  Now,  let  me  tell  you  everything.  Tom  has  sent  me 
up  to  win  your  confidence,  and  I'm  going  to  begin  by 
giving  you  mine — telling  you  what  has  never  passed  my 
lips  before.  You'll  know  what  I  mean."  She  paused  an 
instant,  and  then  resumed.  "  Tom's  uncle  is,  as  you 
know,  Robert  Davenant;  and  I  am  the  wife  of  John 
Davenant,  his  brother.  I  am  Constance  Davenant." 

"  You,  Mrs.  Davenant,  his  uncle  John's  wife  ?  Why 
he  told  me — "  Dessie  stopped  as  if  in  confusion.  But 
her  companion  smiled. 

"  You  may  finish.  I  am  the  wife  John  Davenant  first 
ill-treated  and  then  left;  and  it  was  before  he  left  me, 
years  ago,  that  you  and  I  met  that  day  at  Birmingham." 

The  composure  with  which  she  referred  to  this  sur- 
prised Dessie,  who  let  the  feeling  show  in  her  looks. 

"  I  expect  Tom  Cheriton  has  told  you  very  much,  but 
nothing  that  he  can  have  told  you  can  equal  the  truth.  It 
is  twelve  years  since  I  married  John  Davenant,  and  after 
the  first  twelve  months  he  never  had  a  word  for  me  that 


Dessie's  Visitor  205 

was  not  Half  a  curse,  nor  an  action  that  he  would  not  have 
liked  to  be  a  blow.  I  bore  it  for  my  child's  sake  until — 
the  mad  time  that  climaxed  that  day  at  Birmingham 
Station."  In  the  pause,  Dessie  took  the  elder  woman's 
hand  in  hers  and  held  it.  Then  she  whispered : 

"  You  need  not  tell  me  any  more  if  it  pains  you. 
You  come  from  Tom.  That  is  enough  for  me — enough 
to  make  me  trust  you." 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you,  all  the  same.  We  had  been 
abroad,  my  husband  and  I,  making  one  of  those  dismal 
pilgrimages  that  people  call  pleasure  tours;  and  on  our 
return  through  London  two  things  happened.  My  hus- 
band forced  on  my  acquaintance  a  woman  I  knew  to  be 
his  mistress,  and  we  met  the  man  whom  you  saw  me 
with  at  Birmingham,  Rolande  Lespard.  But  he  called 
himself  to  us  Jules  Caspien.  You  know  the  man — his 
shrewdness,  daring,  cleverness — and  you  can  understand 
how  in  five  minutes  he  would  detect  the  skeleton  in  our 
lives,  how  he  would  ingratiate  himself  with  my  husband, 
and — but  it  is  enough.  He  did  all  this  and  was  asked  to 
stay  at  our  house  in  the  Midlands." 

She  paused  again. 

"  But  what  you  cannot  understand  is  how  the  man 
appeared  to  me  in  contrast  from  my  brutal  husband,  who 
chose  that  time  of  all  others  to  heap  every  indignity 
upon  me  in  order,  as  I  believe,  to  drive  me  from  the 
house.  He  threw  this  man  in  my  way,  and  I — well,  I 
forgot  all  in  the  lying  hope  of  happiness  which  the  man 
held  out  to  me.  I  was  flying  with  him  that  day — we 
had  left  home  only  some  three  hours  before  you  and  I 
met — and  the  full  scheme  would  have  been  carried  out 
but  for  the  arrest  of  the  man  and  the  warning  which,  by 
the  mercy  of  God,  you  gave  me.  Now  you  can  see  what 


206  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

you  saved  me  from,  Dessie,  and  why  I  did  not  dare  to 
make  myself  known  to  you,  and  why  I  have  always 
thought  of  you  as  a  dear  sister." 

She  stopped  to  kiss  the  girl. 

"  I  went  back,  and  then  I  saw  that  the  whole  scheme 
had  been  planned  by  my  husband  and  that  villain,  and 
my  eyes  were  open  indeed  to  the  infamy  of  both.  My 
return  completely  disconcerted  him ;  but  I  had  not  been 
away  long  enough  for  him  to  bring  any  charge  against 
me,  while  the  arrest  of  the  man  Le  Caspien,  or  Lespard, 
made  it  impossible  for  the  conspiracy  to  be  carried  fur- 
ther. I  had  been  pulled  up  on  the  very  brink  of  destruc- 
tion, and  was  saved  to  protect  my  child  and  to  wonder 
how  I  could  ever  have  been  so  mad  and  blind  as  to  have 
been  forced  by  my  husband's  brutality  and  cunning  into 
forgetting  her  even  for  an  instant.  Two  years  later 
my  husband  left  me  and  went  abroad,  having  ruined 
himself  in  health  and  pocket  by  his  excesses.  He  has 
never  returned;  but  his  brother,  who  has  always  taken 
my  side,  insists  that  a  share  of  his  wealth  is  mine  and 
my  child's  by  right." 

"  How  you  must  have  suffered,"  said  Dessie,  gently, 
as  she  pressed  the  hand  she  held. 

"  It  is  over,  thank  God,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  now  you 
know  the  secret  of  that  meeting,  which  no  one  else  on 
earth  knows  but  you.  Do  you  know  I  often  have  the 
picture  of  you  in  my  thoughts,  as  you  were  that  day. 
You  were  not  so  pale  as  you  are  to-day — not  half  so  care- 
worn and  hopeless  looking,  and  the  moment  my  eyes  met 
yours  I  seemed  to  realise  partly  what  a  fearful  blunder 
I  was  making.  You  looked  so  strong,  self-reliant,  quick 
and  resolute,  and  yet  so  incapable  of  wrong-doing  or 
thinking,  that  the  mere  silent  contact  with  you  stirred  the 
good  in  me  and  scared  the  evil.  But  at  first  I  felt  it  was 


Dessie's  Visitor  207 

too  late,  and  then  when  you  came  back  with  your  quick, 
impulsive  warning,  urging  me  to  fly  at  once,  I  seemed  to 
see  right  and  honour  opening  before  me  again  at  your 
bidding,  and  I  fled  almost  without  a  word  to  you — and 
yet  you  were  more  like  an  angel  to  me  in  that  moment 
than  all  the  religion  of  all  my  life  had  ever  let  me  con- 
ceive. It  was  you  who  saved  me,  Dessie,  and  I  have  come 
now  to  save  you  in  return.  For  you  are  shivering  on  the 
brink  of  an  error  which  may  have  as  terrible  consequences 
for  you  as  mine  might  have  had  for  me,  and,  of  all 
strange  coincidences  in  the  world,  through  the  same  evil 
man,  for  I  have  learnt  enough  from  Tom  to  know  that 
it  is  the  same  man." 

Dessie  trembled  a  little,  and  then  said,  slowly  and 
sadly. 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  same  man." 

"  The  coincidence,  of  course,  is  all  due  to  those  jewels 
which  the  man  says  he  put  in  my  bag.  I  suppose  they 
have  given  him  his  hold  over  you.  Were  they  there  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  found  them,  of  course,"  said  Dessie.  "  And 
I " 

"  Stay  a  moment  before  you  tell  me  anything.  Let 
me  finish  what  I  know  about  them.  It  is  very  little.  I 
found  out  afterwards,  of  course,  who  the  man  Le  Caspien 
was,  and  followed  his  trial  as  Rolande  Lespard  for  the 
murder  of  an  old  man.  Did  you  see  that  ? "  Dessie 
nodded. 

"  Well,  some  three  years  afterwards,  just  when  I 
wrote  to  you,  he  came  to  me.  What  he  thought  to  do 
I  cannot  tell,  but  his  power  over  me  was  broken.  I 
threatened  to  have  him  turned  out  of  the  house  if  he 
ever  came  near  me  again,  and  I  would  have  done  it.  But 
it  was  the  jewels  he  wanted,  not  me;  although  when  he 
told  me  the  tale  about  them  I  did  not  believe  him.  I  did 


208  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

not  remember  he  had  ever  given  me  the  cigar  case  to 
take  care  of ;  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  did  so  in  order 
that  if  anything  happened  to  him  they  should  be  found 
on  me  instead  of  on  him.  I  suppose  he  went  in  actual 
fear  of  the  arrest,  but  I  have  even  now  no  idea  how  he 
came  by  the  jewels.  I  suppose  he  had  stolen  them.  He 
is  certainly  villain  enough." 

"  He  is  villain  enough  for  anything,"  said  Dessie. 

"  I  wrote  to  you  to  put  you  on  your  guard  should 
you  ever  meet  him,  and  in  case  the  story  he  told  should  be 
true.  But  I  little  thought  there  would  ever  be  need. 
Now  I  think  you  know  everything,  except  that  when  I 
heard  from  Tom  one  day  that  he  wanted  to  marry  a 
girl  named  Dessie  Merrion,  I  puzzled  my  brains  to  think 
whether  it  could  be  you.  I  could  not  let  drop  a  word 
about  my  knowing  you;  neither  could  I  do  what  Tom 
was  always  asking  me  to  do — come  up  and  see  you.  I 
think — "  and  she  stopped,  and  taking  both  Bessie's  hands 
in  hers,  held  them,  and  smiled  to  her,  "  I  think  I  was  a 
little  afraid  of  you — afraid  of  what  might  happen  if  you 
recognised  me,  as  of  course  you  would.  And  do  you 
know  that  is  about  the  only  thing  I  ever  refused  Tom 
Cheriton  in  all  my  life.  I  never  can  resist  that  cheery 
winning,  breezy  way  of  his — his  wheedling  way;  and  T 
have  had  to  tell  terrible  stories  and  invent  all  sorts  of 
excuses  and  plans  to  get  out  of  doing  what  would  have 
given  me  the  sweetest  pleasure  in  life — having  you  down 
to  stay  with  me — if  only  I  could  have  made  sure  what 
you  would  be  to  me." 

There  was  no  doubt  now  as  to  what  Dessie  thought 
of  her;  the  girl's  heart  was  warming  with  every  refer* 
ence  to  Tom. 

"  But  I  could  help  you  in  one  way  all  the  same, 
Robert — his  uncle  Robert,  you  know,  who  is  one  of  the 


Dessie's  Visitor  209 

kindest  and  best-hearted  men  that  ever  lived — would  take 
the  crotchet  into  his  head  that  you  were  a  fortune-hunter, 
and  wished  to  marry  Tom,  not  because  you  loved  him, 
but  because  you  wanted  a  share  in  the  money  which  Tom 
will  one  day  have ;  and  he  accordingly  insisted  that  Tom 
must  show  himself  able  to  earn  at  least  £200  a  year  in 
his  profession.  But  the  whole  thing  was  merely  intended 
to  test  your  love  for  him;  and  day  after  day  I  used  to 
talk  to  him,  filling  him  up  with  implied  praises  of  you. 
But  he  always  had  the  best  of  it." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Dessie,  with  a  bright  smile — her 
thoughts  were  all  away  from  her  troubles  for  the  moment, 
and  all  with  her  lover. 

"  Ah,  that's  the  smile  Tom  raves  about,"  said  Mrs. 
Davenant,  smiling  in  her  turn.  "  And  I'm  not  surprised 
either,  my  dear.  Let  Robert  feel  the  warmth  of  one  of 
those  looks,  and  his  opposition  will  melt  as  surely  as  the 
sun  melts  snow.  But  he  could  always  beat  me,  as  I  said, 
because  he  would  turn  on  me  and  say,  '  If  you  think  so 
much  of  the  girl,  why  don't  you  have  her  to  stay  with 
you  ? '  and  I  had  no  answer.  I  came  to  town  once,  re- 
solved to  see  you,  but  my  courage  failed  me,  and  I  went 
back,  having  only  met  you  in  the  street,  after  waiting 
about  outside  here  for  some  hours.  I  thought  that  a 
girl  who  could  fight  the  plucky  fight  you  had  fought,  and 
be  so  strong  as  to  win  your  way  to  independence  alone 
and  friendless  in  this  big,  cold,  hard  Babylon  might  be 
so  confident  of  her  own  strength  as  to  despise  the  weak- 
ness which  I  showed  in  the  moment  which  threw  us 
together." 

"  And  now  ? "  asked  Dessie,  with  another  smile,  a 
mingling  of  happiness  and  love. 

"  Now  I  think  I  am  the  harder  of  the  two.  Then  came 
the  news  of  all  this  trouble — that  you  had  fallen  myste- 


2 1  o  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

riously  into  the  power  of  a  Count  de  Montalt,  an  unknown 
Frenchman,  whose  description  by  Tom  made  me  recog- 
nise him  at  once.  I  felt  that  my  hour  for  strength  had 
indeed  come.  I  was  to  have  a  glorious  revenge  on  you, 
Dessie  " — kissing  her.  "  You  had  saved  me  and  might 
think  harshly  of  my  weakness,  but  I  could  at  any  rate 
save  you,  and  we  could  both  be  strong  together.  If  two 
such  women  as  you  and  I  are  not  a  match  for  even  that 
villain  Lespard — well,  we'll  call  in  a  certain  English 
barrister  that  I  know  to  help  us." 

She  finished  with  a  laugh  that  was  sweet  music  in 
Bessie's  ears ;  but  the  girl's  fears  and  grief  were  too  fresh 
and  too  heavy  not  to  reassert  themselves  soon. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  have  come ;  I  felt  like  starving 
for  a  little  friendship;  but  even  you  cannot  guess  how 
infinite  the  trouble  is." 

"  Guess  it  ?  No,  not  all  of  it.  I  can  certainly  guess 
some  of  it  though,  and  you  must  tell  me  the  rest." 

Dessie  shook  her  head  slowly  and  smiled. 

"  I  cannot.  '  could  not  tell  Tom."  This  was  an  un~ 
answerable  reason  for  telling  no  one  else.  Mrs.  Davenant 
understood  this,  but  she  had  come  prepared  to  combat  the 
determination.  She  made  no  reply  for  a  few  moments, 
and  then  in  a  very  earnest  and  affectionate  tone  she  said : 

"  My  dear,  you  must  not  let  any  previous  resolution 
prevent  your  speaking  plainly  to  me.  I  have  spoken  to 
Tom  on " 

"  Have  you  told  him  about  the — about  our  Birming- 
ham meeting?  "  asked  the  girl,  interrupting  eagerly. 

"  No,  not  yet.  I  wished  first  to  make  quite  sure  that 
this  impostor  Count  was  in  fact  that  same  scoundrel. 
But  I  shall  tell  him  now,  of  course,  and,  if  necessary, 
shall  tell  him  also  the  part  that  the  villain  played  in  my 


Bessie's  Visitor  211 

life."  She  paused  for  Dessie  to  speak.  But  the  latter 
made  no  response. 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  everything,  and  trust  me  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Davenant. 

"  It  would  do  no  good — and  I  cannot.  The  jewels  are 
only  the  least  part  of  the  whole  trouble." 

"  Then  I  shall  go  to  this  de  Montalt  himself ;  and  more 
than  that,  I  shall  see  Mrs.  Markham  and  let  her  know 
what  I  know  of  him." 

"  If  you  do  you  will  ruin  me,"  cried  Dessie,  passion- 
ately. "  He  will  think  I  have  instigated  you,  and  he 
will " 

"  Will  what  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Davenant,  when  Dessie 
paused. 

"  It  will  ruin  me.  Don't  go  to  him ;  don't  please,  Mrs. 
Davenant,"  she  cried  again,  in  a  tone  of  great  distress,  tak- 
ing her  companion's  hand  and  kissing  it.  "  If  I  could 
tell  you — and  would  to  God  I  could — you  and  Tom  would 
both  see  that  only  trouble  and  misery  and  ruin  can  come 
of  this  interference.  Don't  see  him,  and  don't  speak  a 
word  to  Dora — Mrs.  Markham.  Go  back  and  leave  me 
to  bear  this  load  alone.  I  can  bear  it;  indeed,  I  must. 
But  I  cannot  bear  what  will  follow  from  your  interfer- 
ence. I  know  you  mean  to  do  what  is  kind  and  loving, 
and  I  know  that  Tom  hasn't  a  thought  that  isn't  loving 
and  sincere.  But  this  is  stronger  than  us  all.  It  is,  in- 
deed. It  is  hopeless ;  and  only  misery  can  come  of  any 
efforts  to  help  me.  Please,  please  believe  I  know  what  I 
am  saying.  Nothing  can  help  me  but  silence.  Nothing 
on  earth."  She  was  almost  hysterical  in  her  agitation. 

"  You  must  let  me  be  the  judge  of  that,  Dessie.  I  can 
only  promise  to  do  nothing  if  you  tell  me  everything, 
and  I  see  for  myself  that  you  are  right." 


2 1 2  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  I  cannot  tell  you ;  I  cannot ;  I  must  not.  If  I  were 
to  say  even  a  word  to  you,  I  should  only  be  bringing  down 
the  ruin  that  I  dread  more  than  death.  Mrs.  Davenant,  I 
give  you  my  word  that  there  is  a  bar  between  Tom  and  me 
which  must  always  keep  us  apart — always.  If  I  told  it  to 
you  and  to  him,  you  would  both  see  it  as  plainly  as  I  do 
— and  I  am  pledged  not  to  speak — pledged  under  the 
penalty  that  is  absolute  and  utter  ruin." 

Bessie's  profound  distress  pained  and  embarrassed  her 
companion. 

"  What  is  this  barrier?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you.     Please  ask  me  no  more." 

"  Dessie,  my  dear,  I  cannot  leave  it  like  this.  Tom 
loves  you  like  the  true  honourable  fellow  he  is,  and  his 
happiness  is  bound  up  in  this  hope  of  making  you  his 
wife." 

"  I  can  never  marry  him.     I  am  not  fit." 

"  He  told  me  you  had  said  this,  and  that  it  is  the  only 
thing  you  ever  told  him  that  he  does  not  believe;  and  I 
agree  with  him.  I  cannot,  therefore,  let  things  rest  where 
they  are.  I  believe,  and  so  does  he,  that  you  are  acting  in 
this  way  for  some  cause  which  has  quite  upset  your  bal- 
ance of  judgment — and  I  must  interfere  to  save  you  from 
yourself." 

Dessie  sighed,  and  withdrawing  her  hands  from  her 
companion's  clasp,  let  them  fall  on  her  lap,  with  a  move- 
ment of  despair. 

"  As  you  will,"  she  said,  in  a  low  tone  of  sorrow ;  "  as 
you  will.  But  some  day,  when  you  know  all  and  when 
the  ruin  has  come,  you  will  be  sorry  indeed  that  you  have 
been  so  merciless  in  your  friendship." 

"  No ;  on  the  contrary,"  said  Mrs.  Davenant,  firmly,  as 
she  got  up.  "  I  shall  save  you  from  a  ruin  which,  I  am 
sure,  you  have  done  nothing  to  deserve." 


Dessie's  Visitor  213 

Dessie  made  no  answer,  and  watched  Mrs.  Davenant 
put  on  her  bonnet. 

"  Are  you  going  ?  Where  ?  "  she  asked,  dreading  the 
answer. 

"  I  am  going  straight  to  Mrs.  Markham,  and  to  face 
this  villain  who  calles  himself  de  Montalt — to  unmask 
him."  And  kissing  Dessie  lovingly,  she  whispered: 
"  Keep  heart  and  hope,  for  Tom's  sake." 

The  next  moment  the  door  closed  behind  her,  and 
Dessie  felt  chilled  with  the  knowledge  that  the  ruin  she 
dreaded  was  now  brought  close  at  hand. 


CHAPTER  XX 

DAPHNE   AGAIN 

MRS.  DAVENANT  was  much  disturbed  and  profoundly 
perplexed  by  the  interview  with  Dessie,  and  on  her  way 
to  South  Kensington  to  see  Mrs.  Markham,  she  turned 
over  and  over  in  her  thoughts  all  that  the  girl  had  said, 
trying  vainly  to  guess  the  key  to  the  mystery  which  had 
caused  the  sudden  rupture  between  the  two  lovers. 

She  had  long  accustomed  herself  to  think  of  Dessie 
in  a  strain  of  somewhat  exaggerated  admiration.  The 
service  which  the  girl  had  rendered  her  at  the  critical 
moment  of  her  life,  had  developed  and  grown  as  the  re- 
sult of  constant  thankful  remembrance  until  Dessie  had 
become  in  a  manner  idealised  in  her  thoughts.  All  that 
Tom  Cheriton  ever  said  had  seemed  to  confirm  and 
strengthen  her  feelings  until  they  were  almost  passionate. 

As  a  consequence,  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  interpret 
the  secret  as  involving  anything  disgraceful  to  Dessie 
herself.  But  at  the  same  time  the  knowledge  that  there 
was  some  secret  which  as  Dessie  herself  declared  might 
mean  ruin,  that  it  was  in  some  way  connected  with  the 
man  de  Montalt,  and  that  it  was  something  more  serious 
than  the  possession  of  the  jewels,  formed  a  problem  which 
baffled  her. 

She  was  convinced,  however,  that  the  key  was  in  the 
holding  of  the  man  who  called  himself  the  Count  de  Mon- 
talt, and  she  meant  to  have  a  hard  struggle  to  get  it. 

When  she  reached  Mrs.   Markham's  house  in  Edg- 

214 


Daphne  Again  215 

numbe  Square,  the  widow  was  not  at  home,  so  that  she 
could  do  no  more  than  leave  her  name  and  say  that  she 
would  call  again.  When  she  called  the  second  time,  she 
was  shown  in  at  once,  but  instead  of  Mrs.  Markham,  the 
Count  de  Montalt  came  to  her. 

"  I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Markham,  not  you,"  she  said, 
curtly. 

"  Fortune  is  on  my  side  in  this  case,"  he  answered 
calmly.  "  When  I  saw  your  card,  I  recognised  it  as  a 
storm  signal,  thanked  you  mentally  for  your  warning, 
and  made  my  preparations  to  receive  you.  I  come  to  you 
now  laden  with  regrets  from  Mrs.  Markham — to  whom  I 
have  given  a  brief  sketch  of  your  career  and  your  prob- 
able business  with  her — because  she  finds  herself  unable 
to  see  you.  She  has  fatigued  herself  very  much  to-day, 
and  knowing  that  you  and  I  are  old  acquaintances,  begs 
that  you  will  allow  me  to  be  her  messenger  in  this  mat- 
ter. If  you  like  it  more  plainly — I  do  not  intend  you  to 
see  Mrs.  Markham."  The  change  in  his  manner  which 
marked  his  utterance  of  the  last  sentence  was  sharp 
enough. 

"  My  object  here  is  to  ask  Mrs.  Markham  whether  she 
knows  a  certain  Rolande  Lespard." 

"  I  can  answer  that  for  her.  She  does  not.  She  has 
not  many  French  friends  as  yet — she  may  extend  the 
list  after  marriage  with  me.  Of  course  your  informant, 
Miss  Merrion — shall  we  say  Merrion  ? — has  tcld  you  that 
Mrs.  Markham  is  going  to  do  me  the  inestimable  honour 
of  becoming  my  wife."  The  pause  before  Bessie's  name 
did  not  escape  Mrs.  Davenant. 

"  Miss  Merrion  has  told  me  nothing — will  tell  me 
nothing;  and  it  is  because  of  that  I  am  here." 

"  Miss  Merrion  is  discretion  itself,"  he  replied,  as  if 
enthusiastically.  "A  young  lady  whose  confidence  it 


2 1 6  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

is  an  honour  to  share  and  a  crime  to  disclose.  I  have 
a  keen  interest  in  Miss  Merrion,  and  I  am  glad  she  did 
not  send  you  here."  His  ineffable  assurance  exasperated 
Mrs.  Davenant. 

"  I  come  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Cheriton,  who  is  a 
relative  of  mine — my  nephew." 

"  Your  dear  husband's  nephew  ?  "  he  interposed  with 
a  sneer. 

"  Yes,  my  husband's  nephew.  He  told  me  enough 
about  you  to  enable  me  to  recognise  you ;  and  because  of 
thatl  am  here." 

"  For  what  purpose  ?  " 

"  To  warn  Mrs.  Markham  what  manner  of  man  you 
are." 

"  That  is  profoundly  kind  of  you.  But  I  fear  you  will 
not  have  to  take  that  trouble.  I  do  not  propose  that  my 
future  wife  should  make  the  acquaintance  of  a  lady 
who  was  once  all  but — my  mistress."  He  paused  to 
give  this  emphasis. 

'''  You  scoundrel,"  cried  Mrs.  Davenant,  her  cheeks 
flaming.  "  You  dare  to  say  that !  " 

"  I  am  a  martyr  to  the  truth,  when  it  suits  my  pur- 
pose. But  does  your  nephew  know  of  that  interesting 
little  episode  in  your  career?  If  so,  I  am  surprised  he 
should  think  any  acquaintance  between  you  and  my  wife 
possible.  I  know  young  men  have  loose  notions  nowa- 
days, but  really  I  thought  better  of  Cheriton.  I  sup- 
pose he  thinks  his  own  respectability  makes  the  differ- 
ence." 

The  sneering  insolence  of  his  taunts  was  indescribably 
offensive,  but  Mrs.  Davenant  put  a  strong  curb  on  her 
anger.  She  knew  that  he  spoke  with  an  object,  that 
insolence  with  him  was  as  easy  as  courtesy,  and  that  his 


Daphne  Again  217 

mood  was  intended  only  as  a  means  to  secure  some  end 
he  had  in  view. 

"  You  shall  answer  for  these  sneers,"  she  said 
sharply ;  "  but  they  will  not  help  you  to  deceive  me  now. 
I  understand  you  too  well  to  be  either  irritated  or  pleased 
by  any  mood  you  choose  to  assume.  You  can  tell  as  well 
as  I  what  my  present  object  is." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  want  to  renew  the  old  relations. 
Even  if  your  husband  is  dead,  I  cannot  marry  you." 

"  You  are  an  infamous  coward,"  cried  Mrs.  Davenant, 
hotly,  whom  the  fresh  insult  stung  like  a  whip  lash. 
"  But  there,  I  will  not  let  anything  you  say  anger  me," 
she  added  in  a  calmer  tone. 

"  You  are  still  charming  in  your  tempests,"  he  said 
again,  smiling.  "  Only  in  the  old  days  your  husband  was 
the  cause  and  object  of  them,  not — your  lovers." 

"  You  will  not  irritate  me  again,"  replied  Mrs.  Dave- 
nant. "  I  have  a  purpose  to  gain,  and  I  am  here  to  gain 
it.  You  have  come  between  my  nephew,  Mr.  Cheriton, 
and  Miss  Merrion.  You  have  bound  her  by  some  means 
to  keep  silent,  and  have  so  frightened  her,  that  she 
scarcely  knows  what  she  is  doing.  She  is  almost  be- 
side herself  with  terror  of  you.  What  is  the  cause?  Will 
you  tell  me — or  shall  I  force  it  from  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  very  charming  of  you  to  attribute  to  me  so 
much  influence  over  Miss  Merrion,"  he  answered, 
with  his  mocking  smile.  "  But  really  I  don't  possess  it. 
As  for  keeping  those  two  faithful,  loving,  devoted  hearts 
apart,  I  am  not  so  cruel.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  they 
may  marry  to-morrow;  and  as  I  understand  that  the 
young  lady  has  no  parents,  I  shall  be  only  too  happy  to 
give  her  away  to  Mr.  Cheriton." 

"  You  have  separated  her  from  her  friend  here.'* 


2 1 8  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  On  tfie  contrary,  she  separated  herself.  But  I  am 
bound  to  add  I  should  have  done  so.  I  do  not  consider 
her  a  fit  companion  for  my  wife." 

"  That  is  rather  a  compliment.  You  class  her  with 
me." 

"  Not  exactly  with  you,"  he  answered,  steadily.  "  You 
are  only  a  woman  who  would — she  is  one  who  did." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  cried  Mrs.  Davenant,  hot 
with  anger  again.  "  Do  you  dare " 

"Ask  Sir  Edmund  Landale,"  he  interposed,  curtly. 
"  You  will  then  know  why  I  class  her  where  I  do." 

"  Do  you  insinuate " 

"  I  insinuate  nothing.  I  only  tell  you  that  Sir  Edmund 
Landale  is  the  man  whom  this  Miss  Dessie  Merrion,  as 
she  calls  herself,  did  not  marry.  Ask  him  the  rest — or 
her?  Why  do  you  suppose  she  makes  all  this  mystery, 
if  there  is  no  disgraceful  secret?  As  for  marrying  your 
Mr.  Cheriton,  if  he  cares  to  marry  her — when  he  knows 
what  tfiere  is  to  know — it  is  nothing  to  me." 

It  was  a  dastardly  blow,  but  it  struck  home,  and  Mrs. 
Davenant  sat  silent  and  dismayed.  She  was  all  un- 
willingness to  believe  any  harm  of  Dessie,  and  her  whole 
instincts  revolted  against  the  idea  of  accepting  for  a 
moment  any  slander  he  might  utter.  But  the  sheer  au- 
dacity of  the  accusation  impressed  her  in  spite  of  herself, 
and  the  reference  to  the  fact  of  the  mystery  impressed 
her  in  spite  of  her  faith. 

"  I  do  not  believe  a  word  you  say.  Not  a  word,"  she 
said,  after  the  pause.  "  You  have  some  diabolical  mo- 
tive, and  for  this  reason  you  make  this  abominable 
charge." 

"  As  you  please.  It  is  nothing  to  me,"  he  returned, 
lightly,  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  a  gesture  of 
indifference.  "  You  can  easily  prove  it." 


Daphne  Again  219 

"Who  is  this  Sir  Edmund  Landale?" 

"  Ask  Miss — Merrion.  She  can  tell  you — if  she  likes  " 
— this  with  a  sneer.  "  Ask  her,  or  go  and  see  him.  Any 
directory  will  give  you  his  address.  I  will  go  with  you  if 
you  wish.  You  quite  mistake  me.  I  am  interested  in 
this  poor  girl's " 

"  Bah !  I  know  the  interest  you  would  take  in  such  a 
case.  Your  own." 

He  raised  his  hands  and  eyebrows  to  express  his  pro- 
test. 

"  Is  there  anything  more  you  wish  to  say  or  do?  If 
not " — he  left  the  sentence  unfinished,  but  his  meaning 
was  clear  enough. 

"  Before  I  leave  this  house,  I  mean  to  see  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham." 

"  You  will  do  no  good — to  your  young  friend." 

"  Nor  to  you,"  she  retorted,  sharply.  "  But  I  mean 
what  I  say." 

"  Then  I'll  go  and  fetch  her."  He  bowed  gravely  and 
went  to  the  door  and  before  he  opened  it  turned  and 
said :  "  If  I  succeed  in  inducing  Mrs.  Markham  to  see 
you  for  once  do  not  blame  me  if  you  find  yourself 
treated  with  very  scant  courtesy." 

And  with  that  he  bowed  again  to  her,  a  smile  twitch- 
ing the  corners  of  his  mouth  as  he  left  the  room. 

As  Mrs.  Davenant  waited,  a  crowd  of  perplexing 
thoughts  pressed  upon  her  and  after  sitting  some  time, 
she  began  to  grow  impatient.  This  feeling  developed 
quickly  as  the  minutes  passed.  A  quarter  of  an  hour 
went,  and  when  this  had  lengthened  into  nearly  half  an 
hour,  she  rang  the  bell. 

"  Does  Mrs.  Markham  know  that  I  am  waiting  to  see 
her  on  very  important  business  ?  Please  to  tell  her,"  she 
said  to  the  servant. 


220  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

<?Mrs.  Markham,  mum?  answered  the  man,  in  some 
astonishment.  "  She's  gone  out,  mum,  with  the  Count — 
nearly  half  an  hour  ago." 

"  Gone  out  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Davenant,  in  astonishment. 
"  Why,  I  have  been  waiting  here  to  see  her." 

"  They  must  have  made  some  mistake,  I  think,  mum, 
and  thought  you  had  gone.  The  Count  gave  me  a 
letter  to  give  to  you — Mrs.  Davenant,  I  think? — if  you 
should  call  again." 

"  Bring  it  to  me,  please.  There  must  have  been  some 
mistake." 

The  man  went  away  and  returned  with  a  letter.  Mrs. 
Davenant  opened  it  hurriedly. 

"  DEAR  CONSTANCE, 

Inadvertently  you  see  I  have  dropped  into  the  old 
style.  I  have  tried  to  persuade  my  Dora  to  see  you, 
but  she  will  not.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  leave  you  in  the 
house,  but  my  dear  Dora's  health  is  not  strong  enough 
to  warrant  her  facing  such  a  scene  as  one  between  an  old 
love  of  one  kind  and  a  new  one  of  another.  We  had 
already  planned  a  little  trip  into  the  country,  and  time 
is  too  short  to  allow  of  my  seeing  you  personally  to  tell 
you  this. 

G.  de  M." 

As  she  read  this  she  nearly  bit  her  lip  through  with 
vexation  at  the  manner  in  which  the  man  had  outwitted 
her;  and  telling  the  servant  she  would  call  again,  she 
left  the  House. 

She  understood  the  meaning  of  the  trick  well  enough. 
He  was  determined  that  she  should  not  see  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham  before  the  wedding  if  possible,  and  had  hurried  her 
away  from  London. 

She  went  next  to  Tom  Cheriton's  chambers,  where  any 


Daphne  Again  221 

message  from  him  was  to  be  sent  to  her;  and  she  found 
there  a  telegram  recalling  her  home  in  hot  haste,  as  Mr. 
Davenant  had  had  a  serious  relapse,  and  was  in  danger. 
She  wrote  a  few  hurried  lines  to  Dessie,  just  a  message 
of  hope  and  comfort,  and  a  word  to  explain  her  depar- 
ture, and  drove  to  the  station. 

Meanwhile,  Dessie  herself  had  been  coming  to  a  new 
resolution  as  to  her  own  plans. 

Mrs.  Davenant's  visit  had  troubled  her  greatly.  It  was 
clear  to  the  girl  that  even  those  who  were  nearest  and 
dearest  to  her  did  not  mean  to  let  her  go  her  own  way 
in  peace,  and  that  despite  all  she  might  do  and  say,  they 
would  interfere  and  hurry  on  the  ruin  and  exposure 
which  she  was  striving  might  and  main  to  avoid. 

All  the  best  intentions  in  the  world  and  the  most  af- 
fectionate motives  and  desires  could  not  alter  the  facts 
of  the  case.  She  and  Tom  were  parted  beyond  the  pos- 
sibility of  reunion,  and  any  interposition  by  him  or  by 
Mrs.  Davenant  could  do  no  good,  and  must  do  harm. 
She  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she  must  therefore 
manage  to  convince  them  both  of  the  uselessness  of  any 
action  in  her  behalf;  and  there  was  only  one  way  in 
which  she  could  do  this. 

Flight. 

She  had  had  to  cut  herself  absolutely  adrift  from  her 
former  life,  and  she  must  do  it  again.  The  comparative 
success  of  her  first  attempt  made  her  ready  to  attempt  it 
again,  and  she  soon  had  a  plan  formed. 

She  would  give  up  the  jewels  to  the  man,  de  Montalt, 
and  then  quietly  disappear  from  London,  take  another 
name,  and  begin  again  in  some  other  big  town.  She  was 
much  better  qualified  to  make  a  good  fight  of  it  now  than 
she  had  been  before,  and  though  she  would  have  to  begin 
all  over  again  in  her  literary  work  in  a  fresh  name,  she 


222  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

had  her  experience  to  guide  her  and  confidence  in  her 
ability  to  make  the  new  start  successfully. 

She  had  just  formed  her  resolve  when  a  telegram  from 
the  Count  came,  saying  that  he  should  call  the  next 
day  instead  of  Monday.  This  suited  her  plans,  and  she 
went  at  once  to  the  Safe  Company  to  get  the  jewels. 

There  a  surprise  awaited  her.  There  was  a  letter  from 
Daphne,  in  which  the  latter  said  that  she  was  coming  to 
London,  and  that  Dessie  must  let  her  know  at  once  where 
they  could  meet.  After  a  moment's  reflection,  she  wired 
in  the  name  Merrion  and  gave  the  address  of  her  own 
rooms. 

This  letter  gave  yet  a  new  direction  to  her  thoughts, 
and  after  she  had  been  to  the  safe  and  taken  out  the 
rubies,  she  walked  slowly  home  to  her  rooms,  deep  in 
thought  as  to  the  possibility  of  carrying  out  a  plan  that 
occurred  to  her. 

It  might  be  practicable,  she  thought,  to  go  out  of  the 
country  with  Daphne ;  right  away  to  some  distant  colony, 
where  the  old  pains  and  old  pleasures  might  both  be 
forgotten,  and  /a  quite  fresh  life  commenced,  where 
neither  they  themselves  nor  their  ugly  history  would  be 
known. 

The  idea  pleased  her;  pain  though  it  was  to  think  of 
putting  the  sea  between  Tom  and  herself.  Yet  it  would 
be  better  for  him.  He  would  then  be  forced  to  realise 
the  uselessness  of  any  further  hope,  and  cease  to  be 
troubled  about  her. 

When  she  had  passed  some  time  in  this  kind  of  dream- 
ing, Mrs.  Davenant's  letter  came;  and  it  seemed  as 
though  all  things  were  combining  to  make  the  plan  of 
flight  easy.  Tom  was  away;  Mrs.  Davenant  was  now 
called  away  again;  Mrs.  Markham  had  quarrelleti  with 
her;  Daphne  was  coming  up  to  town.  One  last  short 


Daphne  Again  223 

interview  was  all  that  was  necessary  to  finish  all  relations 
with  the  Count.  Everything  was  shaping  itself  to  the 
one  end. 

Presently  she  commenced  to  pack  her  things.  To- 
morrow must  see  her  away  somewhere.  When  Tom  or 
Mrs.  Davenant  came  next  to  town  she  must  be  away, 
and  nothing  should  remain  by  which  she  could  be  traced. 
A  letter  to  each  of  them  would  be  enough.  It  might 
seem  hard  at  first  blush,  and  Tom  might  think  it  so. 
But  it  was  better  to  crush  his  hope  at  once  rather  than  to 
let  him  go  on  deluding  himself  that  anything  could 
reunite  them. 

Tfie  packing  occupied  some  hours,  but  she  worked  hard 
and  late,  and  finished  it  before  going  to  bed. 

The  night's  rest  and  reflection  confirmed  her  in  the 
plan,  and  she  awoke  anxious  for  Daphne  to  come,  that 
they  two  might  determine  on  some  course. 

At  the  same  time  she  was  anxious  to  know  the  object 
of  her  sister's  visit.  It  occurred  to  her  that  Daphne's 
coming  might,  after  all,  involve  her  in  the  risk  of  dis- 
covery. In  her  present  nervous  and  excited  condition 
of  mind  this  feeling  rapidly  developed  into  something 
akin  to  alarm  lest  her  sister  should  be  recognised  and  so 
placed  in  danger  of  arrest. 

It  must  be  a  strong  motive,  she  reflected,  that  could 
induce  Daphne  to  run  such  risk ;  and  as  the  time  passed, 
and  no  letter  or  telegram  came  from  her,  Dessie's  anxiety 
increased  rapidly. 

The  time  was  getting  on  indeed  for  the  Count's  visit, 
and  Dessie  began  to  fear  that  the  two  might  meet  on 
their  way  to  the  house ;  and  then  her  active  imagination 
began  to  picture  the  possibilities  of  unpleasantness  which 
might  result  from  that,  and  to  try  and  determine  what  to 
do  to  prevent  them. 


224  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

But  there  was  no  need.  A  full  hour  before  noon,  the 
time  which  the  Count  had  appointed,  a  gentle  knock 
sounded  on  the  door. 

It  was  Daphne,  dressed  in  her  nurse's  uniform;  her 
hair  brushed  well  behind  the  black  veil  which  was  laid 
over  it,  to  conceal  it  as  much  as  possible  from  sight. 

She  came  in  as  quietly,  and  with  as  much  self-posses- 
sion, as  though  entering  a  sick-room  in  the  exercise  of 
her  profession,  and  taking  Bessie's  hands  in  hers,  she 
kissed  her  on  the  forehead,  and  said  gently, 

"  I  am  glad  you  trusted  me  with  this  address,  dear. 
I  have  come  up  now  to  tell  you  that  I  have  changed.  I 
mean  to  face  this  man,  Colimbert,  and  dare  him  to  do 
his  worst." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  COUNT'S  PLANS 

THE  Count  de  Montalt  had  fully  appreciated  the  sig- 
nificance of  Mrs.  Davenant's  interference  as  soon  as  she 
had  told  him  of  the  relationship  between  her  and  Tom 
Cheriton.  Till  that  moment  he  had  set  down  her  visit 
to  some  action  of  Bessie's;  but  the  fact  that  Cheriton's 
influence  would  be  certain  to  be  exerted  to  cause  Mrs. 
Davenant  to  interfere  made  both  her  object  and  motive 
clear  enough. 

Nor  did  he  attempt  for  a  moment  to  underrate  the 
gravity  of  the  step  to  him.  Mrs.  Davenant  knew  as 
much  as  Dessie  had  known  at  the  first;  quite  enough, 
if  the  facts  were  once  impressed  on  Mrs.  Markham,  to 
make  the  latter  altogether  unwilling  to  marry  him.  His 
whole  scheme  was  thus  in  sudden  but  imminent  danger 
of  failure. 

Yet  in  a  way  he  rather  enjoyed  the  incident  of  the 
interference.  It  added  salt  to  a  rather  flavourless  court- 
ship. He  had  won  his  victory  over  Dessie  so  quickly 
and  with  such  ease  that  the  effect  of  that  stimulant  had 
worn  off.  Now,  however,  there  was  a  much  greater 
difficulty  to  be  faced.  Mrs.  Davenant  was  not  a  woman 
to  be  silenced,  while  that  bulldog  of  a  barrister,  as  he 
termed  Tom  Cheriton  in  his  thoughts,  would  probably 
hang  on  to  the  very  last  moment. 

Moreover,  now  that  there  were  others  who  knew  his 
secret,  his  hold  over  Dessie  was  lessened.  He  was  not 


226  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

actuated  by  any  motive  of  malice  or  anger  towards  her. 
All  he  wished  was  to  gain  his  own  end  in  his  own  way. 
If  that  were  done  he  would  rather  help  Dessie  than  hurt 
her.  It  was  only  when  people  threatened  him  that  he 
turned  on  them.  Thus  it  would  serve  no  purpose  to  ex- 
pose Daphne  Marlow  when  no  good  for  himself  was  to 
be  gained.  He  wanted  to  trade  on  the  threat,  not  to  do 
the  thing  itself. 

He  chose  his  course  with  customary  promptness. 

On  his  return  to  the  house  with  Mrs.  Markham  after 
Mrs.  Davenant's  first  call  he  had  seen  the  latter's  card 
and,  scenting  danger  instantly,  had  begun  to  prepare  the 
widow  for  anything  that  might  be  said.  He  told  her  that 
Mrs.  Davenant  was  a  woman  of  somewhat  abandoned 
character  who  had  tried  at  a  critical  time  of  his  life  to 
force  herself  upon  him ;  that  she  had  professed  an  over- 
mastering love  for  him ;  and  that  having  heard  of  his  im- 
pending marriage  she  had  probably  come  to  try  and 
separate  them. 

Mrs.  Markham's  jealousy  was  fired  in  an  instant,  and 
she  was  for  refusing  to  have  her  in  the  house  at  all; 
but  the  Count  said  he  had  more  recently  become  possessed 
of  information  about  her  which  would  probably  free 
both  from  her  attentions  for  the  future.  For  this  object, 
in  Mrs.  Markham's  view,  the  interview  had  taken  place; 
and  when  the  Count  left  Mrs.  Davenant  he  told  the 
widow  that  the  visitor  had  gone. 

"  I  have  got  rid  of  that  woman,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh. 
"  She  won't  trouble  me  again  as  long  as  I  live.  I  hate 
being  unpleasant  to  any  woman  and  threatening  her 
with  the  police,  but  it  is  an  unfortunate  necessity  at  times. 
However,  now  we  can  start  for  our  little  trip,"  and  he 
kissed  her  and  smiled  into  her  eyes,  as  though  he  had 
not  a  thought  which  he  did  not  share  with  her. 


The  Count's  Plans  227 

They  had  planned  a  visit  to  Brighton,  and  he  led  her 
out  of  the  house,  chatting  gaily  and  tenderly,  and  put 
her  into  the  carriage  with  an  air  of  solicitude  which 
suggested  that  she  was  just  the  one  thing  in  all  the 
world  that  he  wished  to  guard  zealously  and  carefully. 
Then,  with  the  excuse  that  he  had  forgotten  something, 
he  ran  back  into  the  house,  and  scribbled  the  letter  for 
Mrs.  Davenant,  saying  it  was  to  be  given  to  her  if  she 
called  again. 

As  soon  as  possible  he  sent  a  telegram  to  Dessie  say- 
ing he  would  call  the  next  day  instead  of  waiting  until 
the  time  arranged,  and  lying  gaily  all  the  time,  he 
chatted  to  Mrs.  Markham  during  the  train  journey 
to  Brighton. 

"  I  am  often  sorry  for  that  Mrs.  Davenant,  despite  her 
conduct,  to  me,"  he  said  once. 

"  You  always  take  the  charitable  view  of  everybody's 
conduct,  Godefroi,"  said  Mrs.  Markham,  seeing  no  need 
for  any  display  of  softness  toward  a  woman  who  had 
tried  to  part  them  and  to  win  away  the  Count. 

"  I  wish  I  did,"  he  said,  with  that  air  of  self-condemna- 
tion which  is  really  self-praise.  "  But  this  poor  wretch 
has  had  the  hardest  of  hard  fates — an  unhappy  mar- 
riage." 

"  I  daresay  she  helped  to  make  it  so,"  said  Dora, 
sharply. 

"  Oh,  very  likely.  But  when  I  knew  the  man  he  was 
certainly  a  poor  specimen  and  a  brute.  Drank  like  Bacchus 
himself,  and  in  his  cups  was  a  very  unpleasant  specimen. 
Beside,  he  was  a  rogue,  and,  I  believe,  a  thief." 

"  What  was  he  when  they  married  ?  That's  what  I 
should  want  to  know.  If  he  was  like  that  then,  why  did 
she  marry  him  ?  I  suppose  she  had  her  eyes  open.  If  he 
was  not,  then  how  much  had  her  conduct  to  do  with 


228  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

changing  him  for  the  worse  ?  That  is  how  you  must  look 
at  a  match  of  that  kind." 

The  widow  was  in  no  mood  to  make  excuses  or  even 
to  hear  them  made  for  a  woman  who  had  tried  to  win  her 
lover  away. 

"  She  was  very  anxious  to  see  you,"  he  said,  smiling 
to  her.  He  could  see  that  she  was  sufficiently  angry  now 
to  hear  anything.  "  She  kept  saying  that  if  you  would 
only  just  hear  her,  you  would  never  marry  me.  Then 
she  called  me  a  thief,  a  rascal,  a  villain — anything  and 
everything  that  was  insulting — and  why?  I  asked  her 
why;  and  all  I  could  gather  was  that  my  crime  was  in 
daring  to  love  you,  Dora.  The  woman  is  mad,  my  dear ; 
stark,  staring,  raving  mad,  because  I  would  never  listen 
to  her.  If  ever  you  meet  her,  or  any  of  those  whom  she 
can  set  against  me,  you  will  know  how  to  judge  the 
scandals  they  may  utter." 

"  How  can  I  meet  them  ?    Who  are  they  ?  " 

"  One  of  them,  I  regret  to  say,  is  that  young  Cheriton 
— the  man  who  was  so  insulting  to  me  the  other  day. 
I  couldn't  understand  his  conduct  then ;  but  now  I  see 
it.  He  is  this  woman's  nephew,  possibly  her  tool;  and 
no  doubt  she  set  him  to  insult  me." 

"  I  will  never  let  him,  or  any  of  them,  enter  my  house 
again,"  said  Mrs.  Markham,  vehemently;  and  in  this 
manner  feeding  the  flames  of  her  anger  with  the  fuel 
of  jealousy,  the  man  so  excited  her  rage  against  Mrs. 
Davenant  and  Cheriton  that  any  tale  they  might  tell 
would  certainly  be  discredited,  and  the  mere  fact  that 
they  had  uttered  it  would  be  accepted  as  proof  of  its 
falseness. 

As  soon  as  this  point  was  clear  he  pressed  the  subject 
of  an  immediate  marriage,  and  as  she  was  only  too 
ready  to  accede  to  his  wishes  the  matter  was  settled  as 


The  Count's  Plans  229 

he  had  wished  it  by  the  time  the  train  drew  up  at 
Brighton  station.  There,  however,  an  incident  occurred 
which  annoyed  him. 

The  train  came  to  a  standstill  just  at  a  point  where 
George  Vezey  was  standing,  and  as  he  was  expecting 
friends  bj  the  train,  he  caught  sight  of  them  instantly. 
The  Count  was  irritated,  as  he  had  wished  the  visit  to 
Brighton  to  be  quite  unknown.  Vezey  knew  Cheriton, 
and  in  the  Count's  view  any  chance  connecting  link  with 
the  latter  was  a  possible  source  of  danger.  He  knew,  too, 
that  Vezey  would  only  be  too  glad  to  get  hold  of  some 
reason  for  interfering  with  the  marriage. 

A  very  few  words  were  interchanged,  Vezey  saying" 
he  should  call  on  Mrs.  Markham  at  her  hotel,  and  then 
the  two  drove  away  together. 

"  Poor  George !  He  is  not  a  bit  like  the  same  good 
fellow,"  said  Mrs.  Markham.  "  But  I  can't  help  liking 
him.  He  at  least  wishes  me  well,  Godefroi." 

"  You  probably ;  but  me  doubtfully,"  answered  the 
Count,  with  a  laugh.  "  If  he  has  the  same  feeling  toward 
me  that  I  should  have  against  him,  had  he  taken  you  from 
me,  he  must  hate  me  with  a  dangerous  hate." 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  me,  Godefroi  ?  " 

"  I  would  give  my  life  for  you,  Dora ;  or  take  any 
other's  life  who  parted  us.  We  men  of  the  South  love 
and  hate  with  the  heat  of  the  sun  in  our  blood." 

"  Could  you  hate  me?  "  she  whispered,  taking  his  hand. 

"  Yes,  if  you  loved  another  man,"  he  answered  ve- 
hemently, "  and  tearing  out  my  love  from  my  heart  I 
would  set  it  on  a  poignard's  point  and  drive  it  right  into 
yours.  We  of  the  South  hold  life  cheap  where  love 
is  false." 

"If  that  is  the  only  danger  which  threatens  my  life,5* 
she  whispered  ecstatically,  "  I  shall  never  die." 


230  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

That  evening  he  made  hot  love  to  her,  and  before  he  left 
to  go  to  his  hotel  he  had  arranged  to  run  up  to  London 
to  get  a  special  license  for  the  marriage. 

On  his  way  to  London  early  the  next  morning  he 
plumed  himself  on  the  victory  he  was  winning,  and  the 
knowledge  that  he  held  both  successes  in  his  hand,  de- 
spite the  odds  against  him,  made  them  infinitely  more 
agreeable  than  they  would  have  been  if  won  without 
trouble. 

He  went  first  to  Doctors'  Commons  and  arranged  the 
business  of  the  special  license,  and  as  soon  as  that  was 
completed  he  drove  to  Bessie's  rooms.  As  matters  were 
going  so  smoothly  with  him  he  was  in  an  excellent 
temper. 

"  It  is  wonderful  what  a  little  pluck  and  dash  will  do 
in  this  world,"  he  mused.  "  The  odds  against  my  winning 
such  a  woman  as  my  wife  were  thousands  to  one  that 
day  when  I  pulled  that  young  idiot  Vezey  out  of  the 
scuffle  at  Antwerp,  while  they  were  almost  millions 
against  my  ever  catching  sight  of  those  three  rubies.  Yet 
I'm  going  to  pull  off  both  coups,  and  this  in  despite  of 
the  fact  that  I've  been  recognised  by  a  couple  of  people 
who  know  pretty  well  the  worst  there  is  to  know  about 
me." 

He  gave  the  cabman  a  liberal  fare,  and  went  up  Des- 
sie's  staircase  with  the  confident  tread  of  a  man  who 
feels  he  is  going  to  win,  and  he  greeted  the  girl  herself 
in  much  the  same  spirit. 

"  I  thought  it  better  to  come  before  the  time  we  ar- 
ranged, Miss  Merrion,"  he  said,  in  his  most  courteous 
manner.  "  I  know  that  my  visits  are  exceedingly  dis- 
tasteful to  you.  I  regret  that  of  course,  as  my  own  feel- 
ings toward  you  are  of  the  most  kindly  character,  but  I 


The  Count's  Plans  231 

cannot  fail  to  see  it,  and  I  must  act  upon  it.  This  will, 
therefore,  be  our  last  interview.  I  presume  you  are 
ready  to  give  me  what  I  have  come  for  ?  " 

"  Before  I  give  them  up  I  must  know  more  of  your 
right  to  them,"  answered  Dessie,  steadily;  and  the  firm 
tone  in  which  she  spoke  and  a  note  of  defiance  which 
he  had  not  noticed  before  made  him  look  at  her  in  some 
surprise  and  curiosity. 

"  I  have  not  come  to  discuss  anything — merely  to  re- 
ceive my  own  property.  You  know  well  that  it  is  mine." 

"  I  have  seen  Mrs.  Davenant  since  I  saw  you  last,  and 
if  I  give  the  jewels  to  you  I  may  have  to  account  for  them 
to  her.  It  was  from  her  I  got  them." 

"  That  is  nothing  to  me.     They  are  mine." 

"  That  may  be,  but  I  have  myself  to  think  of.  If  I 
give  tKem  to  you  and  Mrs.  Davenant  informs  the  police, 
what  am  I  to  say?  I  am  a  journalist  earning  my  own 
living,  and  am  at  least  methodical  enough  to  know  the 
risks  that  attach  to  handling  jewels  worth  thousands  of 
pounds.  You  must,  therefore,  give  me  such  an  account 
of  them  as  will  satisfy  me  and  any  others  who  may  come 
to  make  inquiries." 

The  man  began  to  grow  angry. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  am  no  fool  to  submit  to 
fooling  of  this  kind.  Have  you  the  jewels  here?  " 

"  Certainly  I  have.  But  it  has  been  sugested  to  me 
that  before  I  part  with  them  to  you  I  should  ask  you  how 
they  came  into  your  possession.  Will  you  tell  me?" 

"  No,  it  is  nothing  to  you.  Do  you  mean  you  have 
spoken  of  this  to  anyone  ?  You  know  the  penalty  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  the  penalty,"  answered  Dessie  firmly 
enough.  "  But  the  person  to  whom  I  have  spoken  knows 
you  well,  so  that  there  is  no  need  for  secrecy  there." 


232  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  Secrecy  or  no  secrecy,  I  mean  to  have  those  rubies, 
and  to  have  tfiem  now."  He  laid  down  his  umbrella,  and 
went  toward  the  girl  with  a  threatening  look  on  his  face. 
"  Will  you  give  them  up  to  me,  or  am  I  to  take  them? 
You  know  me." 

"  You  mean  that  having  me  alone  here,  and  at  your 
mercy,  you  will  take  them  from  me  by  force  ?  "  she  asked, 
backing  step  by  step  warily  before  him. 

"  I  mean  that  I  will  have  those  rubies.  Come,  no 
fooling.  I  shall  use  force  if  you  compel  me.  You  are 
mad  to  play  with  me  in  this  way." 

Dessie  had  backed  to  the  door  of  one  of  the  inner 
rooms,  and  stood  against  it  a  moment,  facing  him  as  if 
at  bay. 

He  looked  at  her  as  a  beast  of  prey  might  look  at  an 
easy  victim. 

"  You  had  better  give  them  to  me,"  he  said,  in  a  tone 
that  was  full  of  menace  and  rage,  and  he  seemed  as  if 
about  to  rush  upon  her  and  seize  her  in  his  powerful 
arms. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  do  this  the  door  opened  be- 
hind her,  and  Daphne  Marlow  stepped  into  the  gap.  She 
was  dressed,  not  in  her  nurse's  uniform,  but  with  the 
magnificent  hair  which  had  given  her  her  name  of  Red 
Delilah  streaming  over  her  shoulders,  while  her  face, 
white  and  angry,  was  set  with  a  look  of  hate  and  steady 
courage,  as  she  stared  full  into  the  man's  eyes. 

He  uttered  a  sharp  exclamation  of  angry  surprise. 

"  OH,  it's  you  again,  is  it,  you  red  devil  ?  "  he  cried, 
furiously.  "  I  might  have  known  you  would  be  at  the 
bottom  of  this.  I've  owed  you  a  debt  during  all  these 
years,  and  by  heaven,  I'll  pay  it  now,"  and  he  made  as  if 
to  dash  upon  her. 


"  Stop  where  you  are  if  you  want  to  live ! " 


Page  233. 


The  Count's  Plans  233 

"  Stop  where  you  are,  if  you  want  to  live,"  cried 
Daphne,  and  she  levelled  a  revolver  at  his  head,  and  the 
look  in  her  eyes  told  him  that  she  was  as  capable  as 
ever  of  doing  a  reckless  thing,  and  shooting  him  down 
where  he  stood. 


A  LAST  DEVICE 

THE  mortification  and  rage  of  the  Count  de  Montalt 
when  he  found  that  he  had  been  thwarted  by  Daphne 
were  intense.  He  knew  her  quite  well  enough  to  be 
aware  that  she  not  only  could  but  would  use  the  pistol 
against  him  if  he  pressed  her. 

He  was  quick  to  recover  himself,  and  accepted  the  situa- 
tion, breathing  a  few  deep  and  hearty  curses  over  his 
defeat.  He  laughed,  and  throwing  himself  into  a  chair, 
said  with  an  assumption  of  indifference : 

"  I  give  in.  You've  caught  me  unarmed  and  unawares, 
and  may  make  the  most  of  the  opportunity.  If  I'd  known 
you  were  going  to  be  present  I'd  have  come  prepared; " 
he  looked  at  Daphne  as  he  spoke.  "  Well,  and  what  is 
it  you  want?  I  suppose  you  want  something." 

"  Move  over  to  that  far  end  of  the  room,"  said  Daphne, 
curtly.  "  I  like  to  have  as  great  a  distance  as  possible 
between  us  at  a  time  like  this;  and  maybe  you'll  lose 
your  tempeT  Before  the  interview's  over.  You  were  never 
a  pleasant  customer  when  things  went  wrong." 

He  rose  and  moved  back  his  chair  to  the  wall  without 
a  word.  He  never  did  things  by  halves.  He  had  had  to 
give  in;  and  having  swallowed  the  camel,  he  did  not 
strain  at  the  gnat. 

"  Now,  I  have  a  few  plain  words  to  say  to  you,"  said 
Daphne.  "  You  have  tried  to  force  Dessie  here " 

"  Shall  we  say  Dorothy?  "  he  interposed  with  a  sneer. 


A  Last  Device  235 

"  If  you  wish  to  be  so  very  plain-spoken,  let  us  have  the 
whole  truth." 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  complete  indifference  what  you  call 
us  here,"  returned  Daphne.  "  You  have  tried  to  force 
Dorothy  to  do  what  you  wish  by  threatening  to  expose 
me  and  to  put  me  in  the  dock  on  the  charge  of  murder." 

She  paused  as  if  expecting  him  to  speak ;  and  noticing 
it,  he  said,  with  another  sneer : 

"  You  put  the  matter  cogently.  Your  knowledge  of 
the  facts  and  of  the  crime,  gathered  as  it  is  at  first  hand, 
enables  you  to  speak  with  authority." 

"  You  have  twisted  the  screw  one  turn  too  many,"  said 
Daphne,  taking  no  notice  of  the  sneer ;  "  and  the  thread 
is  broken.  When  I  heard  from  Des — Dorothy  what  you 
had  done  and  what  you  threatened  to  do,  I  meant  to 
secure  your  silence  at  any  cost — even  the  sacrifice  of  her 
happiness." 

"  Ah,  you  were  always  a  considerate  creature — for 
yourself,"  he  sneered  again;  but  she  paid  no  heed  to 
him. 

"  I  have  changed  that  intention ;  and  I  am  glad  to  have 
a  chance  of  telling  you  the  truth  at  once.  If  you  have 
the  courage  to  charge  me  with  the  crime,  I  will  stand 
my  trial,  and  let  the  world  know  what  it  may  of  me; 
but  it  shall  know  something  of  your  share  in  that  matter 
as  well." 

"  The  world  will  be  exceedingly  obliged  to  you,  no 
doubt — though  you,  personally,  may  not  have  much  op- 
portunity of  experiencing  its  sentiments,"  he  said.  "  And 
what  part  is  your  virtuous  sister  cast  for  in  this  melo- 
drama? And  what  is  the  meaning  of  all  this?  Do  you 
want  paying?"  he  asked,  brutally. 

"We  intend  to  be  free  from  you,"  returned  Daphne, 
promptly. 


236  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  Anyone  who  passes  through  the  dock  to  the  gallows 
is  necessarily  freed  from  the  influence  of  others.  But 
what  are  you  going  to  gain  by  changing  from  hospital 
nurse  to  prison  convict — to  take  the  brightest  view  of 
your  future  ?  " 

"  Your  sneers  have  no  power  to  move  us,"  said  Daphne, 
quietly.  "  Nor  are  we  moved  only  in  this  by  the  one 
motive  which  you  can  understand — self-advantage." 

"  Oh,  you've  turned  virtuous  in  your  old  age." 

"  My  object  now  is  to  save  my  sister — " 

"  By  letting  the  world  know  she  has  lived  under  a  false 
name,  is  the  daughter  of  a  forger  and  the  sister  of  a 
woman  who  climaxed  a  career  of  vice  with  murder.  I 
don't  know  what  you  think  you're  saving  her  from,  but 
anyone  can  see  what  you  are  saving  her  for."  He 
spoke  with  intense  bitterness. 

"  To  save  my  sister,"  Daphne  resumed,  as  though  she 
had  not  been  interrupted,  "  from  the  shame  of  witnessing 
the  delivery  of  her  friend  to  your  greedy  and  murderous 
hands !  " 

"  So  you  still  think  and  hope  you  can  keep  Mrs. 
Markham's  fortune  for  yourself,  eh  ?  "  he  asked,  flashing 
a  look  at  Dessie. 

"  You  can  take  your  choice  of  courses,  therefore,"  con- 
tinued Daphne. 

"  But  you  can't  do  it.  I'm  not  such  a  fool  as  to  leave 
you  the  chance  of  coming  between  me  and  my  plans,  and 
you "  (to  Dessie)  "  of  breaking  your  friend's  heart 
under  the  cowardly  guise  of  pretending  to  shield  her, 
when  your  one  object  is  to  keep  a  clutch  on  her  money." 

"  You  can  do  as  you  please,"  repeated  Daphne. 
"  Either  give  up  the  whole  scheme,  marriage,  jewels  and 
all,  and  leave  the  country,  or  go  to  the  police,  inform 
them  that  you  know  where  Red  Delilah  can  be  found,  and 


A  Last  Device  237 

stand  your  chance  that  way.  Adolphe  Colimbert  may  not 
be  an  unwelcome  visitor  himself  at  Scotland  Yard,  and 
this  I  swear " — she  flashed  for  a  moment  out  of  her 
calm,  and  her  voice  rang  with  deep  intensity  of  feeling — 
"  not  another  hour  shall  pass,  unless  you  leave  the 
country,  without  Scotland  Yard  knowing  that  the  Count 
de  Montalt  and  Adolphe  Colimbert  are  one  and  the  same 
person." 

He  laughed — and  a  perfectly  easy  self-assured  laugh 
it  was. 

"  Just  as  you  please.  The  whole  thing  is  getting  very 
interesting  and  almost  exciting.  But  you've  made  one 
little  miscalculation.  You,  Dorothy,  not  Daphne ;  she  " 
— and  he  pointed  at  the  latter — "  wouldn't  have  made  it. 
Your  rich  friend  is  already  all  but  my  wife.  We  left 
London  yesterday  together  for  a  destination  that  no  one 
knows,  and  we  are  to  be  married  to-morrow  morning 
privately — I  have  the  special  license — and  in  the  evening 
we  leave  for  the  Continent  on  our  honeymoon — a  pair  of 
happy,  trustful,  devoted  lovers."  He  told  the  lie  with 
emphatic  precision. 

"  I   don't  believe  it,"  exclaimed   Dessie,   excitedly. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  raised  his  hands. 

"  Nevertheless  it  is  true,"  he  retorted,  "  and  you  may 
ask  your  most  remarkable  and  experienced  sister  whether 
I  am  not  quite  calculated  to  hold  what  I  have  once  won." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  repeated  Dessie. 

He  laughed  again,  as  if  at  her  scepticism,  but  in  reality 
to  conceal  the  thoughts  that  were  fast  crowding  upon 
him.  He  was  beaten,  and  only  at  the  last  moment  when 
he  had  made  sure  that  he  stood  on  the  very  threshold 
of  success.  But  he  meant  to  yield  fighting,  and  so  long 
as  there  was  a  bare  possibility  of  winning  he  would  carry 
on  the  struggle. 


238  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

With  the  elder  sister  in  London  ready  to  face  the  ex- 
posure and  go  through  with  her  trial  for  the  murder  of 
the  Indian  prince,  all  his  power  over  both  the  girls  was 
broken.  He  could  only  hope  to  win  all  and  openly  so 
long  as  the  girls  were  kept  apart  and  Bessie  could  be 
frightened  into  silence  to  save  her  sister  at  any  cost. 

But  there  were  other  ways  of  winning  beside  those 
which  were  open  and  on  the  surface.  The  Rohilkund 
jewels  were  worth  half  a  king's  ransom ;  thousands  could 
be  got  for  them  as  a  reward  for  their  restitution  alone, 
while  if  a  means  could  be  found  of  selling  them,  they 
were  worth  a  fortune.  Of  the  two  he  would  as  soon  have 
the  jewels  as  the  widow;  and  it  was  for  this  purpose  he 
had  told  them  of  the  arrangement  to  marry  the  widow 
on  the  following  day. 

After  a  long  pause  he  dropped  the  bantering,  sneering 
tone  in  which  he  had  chiefly  spoken,  and  said,  with  a  kind 
of  calculated  bluntness : 

"  Now  tell  me  what  is  your  real  object  in  this?  Is  it 
to  compel  me  to  lose  my  hold  on  Mrs.  Markham?  If 
so,  what  terms  do  you  offer?  "  The  change  in  his  manner 
disgusted  Dessie,  but  the  elder  sister  read  it  aright. 
Either  the  man  wanted  to  make  terms,  or  to  hide  some 
other  object  and  plan. 

"  You  can  leave  the  country,"  she  replied  readily. 

"  Not  enough,"  he  said. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Trie  jewels,  and  at  least  a  thousand  pounds.  I  shall 
get  more  from  Mrs.  Markham." 

"  You'll  not  Have  a  thousand  pence  from  me ;  and  as 
for  the  jewels,  not  a  stone  of  them.  Do  what  you  will." 

He  rose  from  his  chair  as  though  in  answer  to  the 
challenge. 

"  Nothing  that  you  can  do  can  prevent  my  marrying 


A  Last  Device  239 

Mrs.  Markham  to-morrow — nothing  shall  prevent  it; 

and  when  once  she  is  my  wife "  He  finished  the 

sentence  with  a  look  which  he  intended  to  be  a  threat; 
and  in  that  sense  Dessie  instantly  interpreted  it 

"  Why  not  give  up  the  jewels?  "  she  cried  impetuously, 
looking  at  Daphne,  and  at  the  same  time  putting  her 
hand  to  her  dress  as  if  to  tak'e  them  out.  The  man 
noticed  the  gesture  quickly  and  turned  his  face  away  that 
the  elder  sister  should  not  see  his  eyes. 

He  knew  now  where  the  jewels  were;  and  the  curt 
refusal  by  Daphne  that  followed  did  not  concern  him. 

"  As  you  will,"  he  said,  assuming  an  expression  of 
baffled  anger  and  intense  mortification.  "  But  I'll  be 
frank  with  you.  To-morrow,  Mrs.  Markham  will  be  my 
wife,  and  then  you  may  be  sorry  enough  that  you  re- 
fused my  terms." 

With  that  he  opened  the  door  viciously  and  slammed 
it  angrily  behind  him.  When  he  was  halfway  down  the 
staircase  he  stopped  to  think.  An  idea  had  occurred  to 
him  and  he  set  his  quick  busy  wits  to  work  to  think 
out  its  details. 

The  gesture  which  Dessie  had  made,  as  if  to  take 
the  jewels  out  of  the  bodice  of  her  dress,  had  shown  him 
that  she  was  carrying  them  on  her. 

His  scheme  was  simply  not  to  lose  sight  of  the  girl 
until  the  rubies  were  in  his  possession ;  and  to  do  this  he 
resolved  on  the  daring  plan  of  getting  Dessie  herself  into 
his  power. 

He  argued — and  a  shrewd  enough  argument  it  was — 
that  so  long  as  the  rubies  remained  out  of  the  safe  they 
would  be  in  Dessie's  care.  He  had  left  it  all  uncertain 
whether  or  not  he  meant  to  accuse  Daphne  of  the  murder 
of  the  Indian,  Maiwand ;  and,  obviously  it  would  be  the 
height  of  imprudence  for  her  to  risk  being  arrested  with 


The  Heritage  of  Peril 

the  property  of  the  murdered  man  actually  in  her  posses- 
sion. Such  a  thing  would  make  it  infinitely  more  difficult 
to  prove  that  she  was  innocent  of  the  crime.  Moreover, 
only  Dessie  herself  could  go  to  the  safe  to  put  the  rubies 
back  there;  while  it  was  extremely  probable  that  her 
first  instinct  would  be  to  rush  off  to  South  Kensington 
to  ascertain  whether  Mrs.  Markham  had  really  left  Lon- 
don with  him. 

His  task  was  thus  to  make  sure  that  Dessie  had  no 
chance  of  putting  the  rubies  back  in  the  safe,  until  he 
should  have  had  an  opportunity  of  taking  them  from  her 
if  she  carried  them  about  with  her ;  or  of  ransacking  her 
rooms  for  them  if  she  left  them  there. 

To  get  her  into  his  power  he  resolved  to  use  once  more 
the  man  who  wanted  to  marry  her,  and  was,  he  knew, 
willing  to  go  to  almost  any  lengths  for  that  end — Sir 
Edmund  Landale. 

He  wrote  a  hasty  note  to  the  latter. 

"  Come  at  once  with  your  brougham  to  the  corner  of 
Great  Russell  Street,  and  then  come  on  foot  to  the  corner 
of  D.  M.'s  street,  where  you  will  find  me  waiting  for 
you.  If  I  am  not  there,  drive  as  quickly  as  you  can  to 
Edgcumbe  Square,  South  Kensington,  and  wait  for  me 
at  the  north  end  of  the  Square.  Do  not  delay  a  moment. 
You  can  win  D.  M.  now  certainly,  if  you  will." 

He  gave  the  letter  with  a  liberal  tip  to  a  hansom  cab- 
man, and  told  him  to  drive  as  quickly  as  he  could  to 
Sir  Edmund  Landale's  address;  and  as  soon  as  the  man 
had  whisked  his  horse  round  and  started  off  at  a  fast 
trot  the  Count  chose  a  spot  where  he  could  watch  the 
door  of  the  house  where  Dessie  had  her  rooms,  and 
waited  for  her  to  come  out.  If  his  calculations  were 
right,  she  would  come  soon,  because  she  would  be  in  a 


A  Last  Device  241 

hurry  to  get  to  South  Kensington,  and  ascertain  the 
news  about  Mrs.  Markham. 

His  plan  was  to  follow  Dessie,  to  get  her  involved  in  a 
street  row,  and  to  arrange  that  Sir  Edmund  Landale 
should  appear  in  the  middle  of  it  as  if  by  chance,  step 
in,  save  the  girl  from  those  who  might  be  molesting  her, 
put  her  into  his  carriage,  and  drive  her  away.  He  knew, 
too,  that  the  baronet  had  a  place,  a  house  in  the  suburbs, 
to  which  Dessie  could  be  taken;  and  once  safely  housed 
there,  the  rest  would  be  comparatively  easy. 

As  he  stood  waiting,  de  Montalt  watched  the  people 
in  the  street  until  a  woman  of  the  kind  he  wanted  passed. 
He  spoke  to  her ;  told  her  that  he  would  give  her  a  couple 
of  sovereigns  if  she  and  one  or  two  more  would  hustle 
and  mob  Dessie  at  a  signal  from  him.  They  were  not  to 
harm  her ;  but  they  might  pretend  to  recognise  her  as  an 
old  companion,  and  if  she  was  indignant,  to  abuse  and 
threaten  her.  If  the  two  sisters  came  together,  they 
were  to  be  separated  in  some  way ;  while  the  whole  thing 
was  to  be  stopped  when  a  gentleman  should  get  out  of  a 
carriage  and  come  to  Dessie's  rescue. 

The  woman  was  glad  enough  to  have  a  chance  of 
earning  the  money  easily,  and  did  not  stop  to  ask  what 
was  to  happen  to  the  girl,  or  whether  any  harm  was 
meant  or  not.  Her  anxiety  was  whether  she  would  get 
the  money  when  the  work  was  done.  The  payment  of 
half-a-sovereign  in  advance  settled  her  scruples  on  that 
account,  and  she  hurried  away  to  find  companions  who 
would  assist  her. 

De  Montalt's  fear  now  was  lest  Dessie  should  come 
out  before  trie  Baronet  could  arrive  and  have  the  plan 
explained  to  him;  and  as  the  minutes  passed  without 
the  sign  of  the  brougham,  his  concern  increased. 


242  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

The  woman  came  back,  bringing  with  her  four  com- 
panions as  ill-looking  as  herself  and  ripe  for  any  street 
mischief.  If  the  Baronet  did  not  arrive  before  Dessie 
left  the  house,  it  would  be  necessary  for  the  street  scene 
to  be  laid  in  South  Kensington,  and  for  this  purpose  the 
women  would  have  to  be  driven  over  there.  The  Count 
called  up  the  woman  and  explained  this  to  her,  and 
while  he  was  speaking  to  her  he  saw  a  smart  brougham 
pull  up  and  Sir  Edmund  Landale  get  out  and  hurry  in  his 
direction. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  asked  the  Baronet,  eagerly,  as  he  came 
up.  "  Am  I  in  time  ?  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Do  you  want  to  get  Dessie  Merrion  completely  into 
your  power?"  asked  the  Count,  in  reply.  "If  you  do, 
there  is  a  chance  now;  and  I  will  help  you."  In  a 
comparatively  few  words  he  explained  the  whole  plan  of 
the  pretended  trouble  and  the  rescue.  "  As  soon  as  you 
have  her  in  the  carriage  drive  off  at  a  smart  pace  in  the 
direction  of  South  Kensington,  going  along  Oxford 
street,  and  then  make  for  that  place  of  yours  in  St.  John's 
Wood.  You  can  invent  some  sort  of  excuse  for  not 
going  straight  to  South  Kensington,  and  the  girl  will  be 
too  excited  over  the  street  adventure,  and  too  grateful  to 
you  for  rescuing  her,  to  ask  many  questions.  I'll  follow, 
and  then  we  can  settle  the  thing  together.  Once  get  her 
to  that  house  and  she'll  never  leave  it  except  as  your 
wife.  Now,  you  understand  ?  " 

The  other  man  yielded  readily,  and  rather  liked  the 
scheme;  and  it  did  not  occur  to  him  to  ask  what  the 
Count's  motive  was  likely  to  be.  It  was  enough  for  him 
that  the  plan  seemed  to  promise  what  he  wanted. 

In  another  minute  the  two  men  had  separated  to  wait 
for  Dessie's  coming. 


A  Last  Device  243 

They  had  not  to  wait  long  now.  A  few  minutes  later 
she  came  out  of  the  house  alone,  and  after  casting  a 
quick  glance  up  and  down  the  street,  she  walked  at  a  good 
pace  in  the  direction  of  Oxford  street — the  direction 
which  took  her  straight  into  the  midst  of  the  women  who 
were  on  the  watch  for  her. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

TRAPPED 

THE  calculations  which  the  Count  had  made  as  to  the 
probable  actions  of  the  two  sisters  were  singularly  shrewd 
and  accurate;  and  the  moment  he  had  left  them  they  set 
to  work  to  plan  out  their  best  course  of  action. 

"  What  does  he  mean  to  do,  Daphne  ?  " 

"  It  is  impossible  to  say  yet,"  was  the  reply.  "  He  has 
probably  gone  away  to  think  over  the  new  position  and 
to  make  some  fresh  plans.  He  won't  give  in  without  a 
big  effort ;  and  much  of  that  effort  will  depend  upon  how 
far  he  thinks  he  can  get  off  scot  free  from  any  investiga- 
tion into  the  murder  of  the  Indian.  If  he  is  sure  that  my 
conviction  will  be  secured  without  any  risk  to  himself, 
my  arrest  will  take  place  within  five  minutes.  He  will 
bring  the  first  policeman  he  meets  up  here." 

"  Oh,  Daphne,"  cried  her  sister,  with  an  expression  of 
pain. 

"  I  am  not  afraid,  dear.  I  have  taken  up  the  cross 
and  I'll  carry  it  now.  Better  the  trial  now  than  the  un- 
certainty that  lingers  like  a  canker,  killing  every  hope. 
I  didn't  kill  the  man.  I  didn't  even  rob  him,  as  robbery 
is  understood  in  criminal  courts.  But  if  I  am  not  to  live 
a  life  of  constant  disguise  and  fear  of  discovery,  the  trial 
must  come ;  and  so  far  as  I  am  concerned  the  sooner  the 
better." 

"  I  can't  endure  the  thought  of  it." 

"  If  I  can,  you  may,"  said  the  elder  sister,  curtly. 

244 


Trapped  245 

"  I  don't  mean  for  my  own  sake  only.  The  thought  of 
your  having  to  face  a  whole  court  of  people,  and " 

"  It's  not  that  I  flinch  from,"  said  Daphne,  interposing. 
"  The  world  and  I  have  always  been  on  terms  of  mutual 
dislike  and  distrust,  and  one  more  chance  of  showing  it 
won't  count  for  much  with  me.  Besides,  I  had  my  fling, 
and  must  pay  the  cost.  I'm  no  coward.  But  I'm  not  by 
any  means  sure  that  it  will  come  to  that.  I  thought  so 
when  you  first  came  to  me;  and  I'll  own  I  was  scared. 
But  this  scoundrel  has  too  much  to  hazard  to  risk  it 
thoughtlessly." 

"  He  is  such  a  desperate  man,  Daphne." 

"  Desperate,  yes,  but  always  with  one  eye  to  his  own 
interest.  Let  him  have  what  influence  he  may  with  this 
fool  of  a  friend  of  yours — this  Mrs.  Markham — the 
knowledge  that  he  is  really  Colimbert  and  Lespard  rolled 
into  one — a  convicted  murderer  in  the  one  character,  and 
a  very  probable  one  in  the  other — would  certainly  prevent 
her  marrying  him.  To  accuse  me  and  rake  up  that  horri- 
ble scandal  will  mean  the  wreck  of  his  marriage  hopes, 
therefore,  at  the  start,  and  he  won't  do  that  without 
strong  reason." 

"  But  we  are  going  to  stop  that  marriage  in  any  case ; 
and  he  knows  it." 

"  No,  he  only  knows  we've  said  so.  He  is  too  accus- 
tomed to  threaten  one  thing  and  mean  another  to  take 
every  threat  of  ours  for  gospel." 

"  Yet  I  do  mean  it,"  said  Dessie,  firmly.  "  I  wish  we 
had  done  what  he  asked — given  him  these  wretched 
jewels  and  let  him  get  out  of  the  country  with  them  as 
soon  as  possible,  and  be  quit  of  him."  She  took  them 
out  of  her  dress  as  she  spoke  and  tossed  them  on  to  the 
table.  "  If  I  can  save  Dora  now  it  is  as  much  as  I  want, 
and  he  can  have  the  rubies  with  pleasure." 


246  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  It  will  be  time  to  think  of  that  when  we  know  really 
what  he  means  to  do.  So  long  as  those  rubies  remain 
in  your  possession  you  can  make  your  own  terms  with 
him.  Let  him  get  them,  however,  and  we  shall  both  be 
at  his  mercy.  At  present  he  clings  to  the  hope  that  he 
can  both  win  the  rich  wife  and  force  or  juggle  us  out  of 
the  jewels.  To-morrow  he  will  know  that  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham  at  any  rate  is  lost  to  him — that  is  if  we  can  find  her — 
and  then  these  stones  will  have  a  much  greater  value  in 
his  eyes.  Keep  them.  You  had  better  keep  them  not  I. 
If  they  were  found  on  me,  supposing  I  am  arrested, 
things  would  probably  go  much  harder  with  me.  I 
should  take  them  back  to  the  safe  if  I  were  you." 

"  I  will,"  said  Dessie,  "  but  I  am  anxious  to  go  and 
find  out  the  truth  about  Dora  Markham.  Even  an  hour's 
delay  may  be  serious  now." 

"  Then  you'd  better  go  at  once." 

"  But  what  will  you  do,  dear  ?  " 

"  Wait  here  for  what  happens.  I  have  made  up  my 
mind.  Do  you  think  I  am  not  as  resolute  as  you  ?  "  and 
Daphne  smiled.  "  You  won't  be  very  long  away  in  any 
case,  and  I  shall  put  on  my  uniform  and  be  Nurse  Mor- 
land  once  more.  If  anyone  comes  for  you  I  shall  be  only 
a  nurse  waiting  to  see  you  for  journalistic  purposes,  or 
some  such  excuse.  We  nurses  are  used  to  exercising 
patience.  Get  back  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  then  we 
will  settle  our  next  step." 

Dessie  was  not  many  minutes  getting  ready. 

"  What  shall  I  do  with  these  ?  "  she  asked,  when  she 
was  ready,  holding  out  the  rubies.  "  I  can't  carry  the 
cigar  case  about  with  me,  nor  the  tobacco  cake.  I  think 
I'm  a  little  nervous  about  having  such  valuables  on  me 
at  all." 

*"'  There's  not  much  fear  in  broad  daylight,"  replied  the 


Trapped  247 

other.  "  But  wait,  let  me  look  where  we  can  best  hide 
them.  Not  your  stays — that's  the  first  place  everyone 
thinks  of.  Better  here."  She  unhooked  the  girl's  dress 
skirt,  and  in  a  few  minutes  had  stitched  the  rubies  into 
the  top  of  the  skirt  at  the  back,  where  the  gathers  effectu- 
ally hid  all  sign  of  them.  "  There  now,  even  a  profes- 
sional searcher  might  run  her  hands  over  you  and  miss 
them." 

They  laughed  at  the  precaution  thus  taken  and  with  a 
kiss  parted,  Dessie  running  lightly  and  quickly  down- 
stairs. As  she  closed  the  heavy  door  behind  her,  and 
stood  a  moment  on  the  top  step,  she  glanced  round, 
the  thought  in  her  mind  being  to  make  sure  that  the 
Count  de  Montalt  was  not  waiting  for  her;  and  seeing 
nothing,  she  walked  off  at  a  brisk  pace. 

She  had  barely  turned  the  first  corner,  however,  when 
she  found  her  way  barred  by  a  number  of  women,  gaudily 
dressed  in  flaunting  but  shabby  clothes. 

They  formed  a  semi-circle  in  front  of  her,  and  one  of 
them  came  close  and  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Ullo,  Molly,  old  dear,  who'd  a  thought  of  seeing  you 
here  ?  You  are  a  toft,  you  are.  Wot's  your  lay  now  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  don't  know  you,"  said  Dessie, 
quickly,  feeling  not  a  little  alarmed  at  the  women's  looks 
and  gestures.  They  all  burst  into  a  loud,  discordant 
laugh  when  she  spoke,  and  the  one  who  had  addressed 
her  turned  to  the  rest  and  said,  with  an  oath : 

"  My  !  ain't  she  proud,  the  bloomin'  'ussy.  Look  'ere, 
Moll,  that  ain't  good  enough  fur  me.  You  may  be  a  fine 
lydy — as  yer  thinks  yer  are,  praps — but  you  never  paid 
me  that  arf  quid  you  borrered,  not  you.  No,  nor  ever 
shelled  out  for  them  boots  as  yer  sneaked.  I  dessay  yer 
all  right ;  but,  if  so,  shell  out  now,  and  be to  you." 

"  I  never  saw  any  one  of  you  before  in  my  life,"  said 


248  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

Dessie ;  "  and,  o!  course,  you  all  know  that  well  enough. 
I'm  only  a  hard-working  girl,  like  any  one  of  you, 
and " 

"  'Ard  workin'  gell  be  sugared,"  cried  the  spokes- 
woman. "  I  ain't  no  'ard  workin'  gell,  and  you  knows 
that  well  enough.  No  more  ain't  you.  But  I  want  my 
coin — that  which  yer  borrered,  and  that  for  all  the  things 
yer  sneaked ;  and  what  I  want  to  know  is — are  yer  goin' 
ter  pay  or  take  the  consequences  ?  I  don't  care  which ; 
and  so  that's  straight,  eh  gells  ?  " 

A  chorus  of  approbation  came  from  the  four  women, 
and  this  was  followed  by  an  evident  disposition  to  change 
from  words  to  something  more  serious.  They  jostled 
Dessie,  abused  her  for  having  borrowed  money  and  stolen 
things,  and  closing  round  in  a  small  semi-circle  shut  her 
up  against  the  wall  of  a  house,  and  barred  every  way  of 
escape. 

The  incident  did  not  last  more  than  a  minute  or  two, 
but  it  quickly  developed  so  threatening  as  aspect,  that 
Dessie  was  thoroughly  frightened,  and  looked  in  all  di- 
rections for  the  help  which  did  not  come. 

When  it  had  reached  its  height,  a  brougham  drove  by 
rapidly,  tfie  occupant  called,  in  a  loud  voice,  to  the  driver 
to  stop,  he  jumped  out,  and  before  the  women  seemed 
to  have  realised  what  had  happened,  Sir  Edmund  Landale 
pushed  his  way  into  their  midst,  gave  his  arm  to  Dessie, 
who  was  now  trembling  and  frightened,  and  handed  her 
into  the  carriage. 

"  You  can  explain  afterwards,"  he  said,  as  he  handed 
her  into  the  brougham.  "  Let  us  get  away  first.  Who 
on  earth  are  these  creatures ; "  he  exclaimed,  as  the 
women  crowded  round  the  carriage  gesticulating  and 
shouting  as  if  in  anger  at  having  been  baulked  in  their 
purpose. 


Trapped  249 

"  I  haven't  the  remotest  idea.  Either  they  made  some 
extraordinary  mistake,  believing  I  was  some  former  as- 
sociate of  theirs — that  was  what  they  pretended — or  else 
they  meant  to  hustle  and  rob  me.  At  any  rate,  I  was 
really  frightened,  and  infinitely  relieved  when  you  came 
bursting  through  them  to  my  help."  She  smiled  hei 
thanks. 

"  I  am  only  too  glad  I  happened  to  be  passing  and  saw 
you.  What  a  lucky  coincidence!  But  now,  where  are 
you  going?  Let  me  put  you  in  safety,  at  any  rate."  The 
brougham  was  being  driven  at  a  quick  pace  along  Oxford 
Street,  in  accordance  with  de  Montalt's  instructions. 

"  I  will  get  out  here,  I  think,"  said  Dessie.  "  Any- 
where will  do.  I  am  quite  myself  again  now,  I'm  not 
likely  to  be  worried  twice  in  a  day  by  such  an  adventure." 

"  I  think  you  had  better  wait  a  little  longer  yet.  Be- 
sides, it  is  so  pleasant  for  me  to  have  you  here,  to  drive 
with  me,  that  I  hope  you  won't  hurry.  Where  are  you 
going?" 

"  To  South  Kensington — to  Mrs.  Markham's  house  in 
Edgcumbe  Square." 

"  I  am  going  to  South  Kensington  myself,"  returned 
her  companion.  "  Let  me  drive  you  there.  You  will 
get  there  at  least  as  quickly  as  if  you  go  by  any  other 
means.  I  have  one  call  to  make  by  the  way  which  will 
not  take  up  much  time,  and  my  horses  travel  fast.  What 
say  you  ?  "  He  asked  the  question  in  a  tone  of  such  ap- 
parently genuine  solicitude,  and  Dessie  was  so  really 
grateful  to  him  for  the  service  he  had  just  rendered  her, 
that  she  consented.  She  was  without  a  suspicion  that 
anything  was  wrong  or  that  the  whole  incident  was  not 
due  to  quite  natural  and  innocent  causes. 

Sir  Edmund  Landale  turned  the  conversation  into  the 
safe  grooves  of  small  talk;  chatted  with  her  about  her 


250  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

work,  told  her  he  had  bought  copies  of  all  her  books, 
pressed  her  to  tell  him  what  she  was  writing,  urged  her 
to  make  use  of  him  in  any  way  to  get  her  writings  better 
known,  and  was  altogether  so  pleasant  and  agreeable 
that  when  the  carriage  turned  out  of  Oxford  Street  to 
the  north  toward  Finchley  instead  of  south  toward  Ken- 
sington, she  scarcely  paid  any  heed  to  the  fact  more  than 
to  accept  the  explanation  he  volunteered  that  He  was 
just  going  to  make  the  business  call  he  had  before  re- 
ferred to. 

The  brougham  went  at  a  great  pace  along  Baker  street 
and  across  into  St.  John's  Wood,  and  when  they  had 
passed  the  shops  and  were  rattling  through  the  squares 
and  streets  of  private  houses,  Dessie  began  to  feel  a  vague 
uneasiness. 

"  I  am  really  in  a  hurry,"  she  said  at  length,  and  her 
face  wore  a  look  of  doubt.  "  Are  you  going  very  far?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  the  place  is  only  about  five  minutes  from 
here,  or  at  the  outside  ten ;  and  really  you  will  be  quite 
as  soon  at  your  friend's.  From  Holborn  to  South  Ken- 
sington via  Finchley  road  is  not  the  shortest  cut,  of 
course;  but  it  is  quicker  behind  a  pair  of  horses  like 
mine  than  in  an  omnibus,  and  much  safer  than  on  foot. 
But  I  should  like  to  tell  you  what  this  little  business  is  of 
mine.  You  are  a  woman  journalist  and  knock  about  a 
good  deal ;  so  you'll  really  be  a  judge.  You  writers  pick 
up  all  sorts  of  odds  and  ends  of  useful  knowledge,  and  I 
daresay  you  know  a  lot  about  singing  birds.  Do  you? 
I've  been  asked  to  buy  a  wonderful  cage  bird — a  great 
beauty,  and  a  splendid  singer  and  talker;  extraordinary 
that  for  a  small  bird,  isn't  it  ?  And  to  tell  you  the  truth 
I  have  rather  jumped  at  the  chance  of  having  you  with 
me  to  see  it.  There  are  so  many  scores  of  ways  in  which 
a  man  gets  taken  in  in  thing?  of  the  kind,  where  a  worn- 


Trapped  251 

an's  sharp  eyes  can  see  the  imposture  in  a  moment.  And 
you  know  I  have  unbounded  faith  in  you."  He  laughed 
lightly  as  he  added.  "  I  hope  you  won't  be  awfully 
angry  with  me  for  having  brought  you  so  far  out  of  your 
way  on  such  an  errand." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  should  have  said  no,  had  you  asked  me 
in  the  first  place,"  said  Dessie,  candidly.  She  was  an- 
noyed, and  did  not  conceal  it. 

"  I  am  really  very  sorry.  Shall  I  stop  him  now  ?  "  and 
he  took  the  check  string  in  his  hand.  "  I  will  if  you  wish 
it ;  but  you  can  really  do  me  a  little  service,  and  it  is  not 
far  now." 

Bessie's  good  nature  conquered  her  irritation. 

"  I  can  really  be  of  no  use  whatever  to  you  in  the 
matter,  but  if  you  wish  to  make  the  call,  don't  hesitate 
on  my  account." 

"  I  have  not  asked  you  much,"  he  returned,  as  if  a 
little  annoyed  and  disappointed  at  her  manner  after  the 
help  he  had  been  to  her  in  the  matter  of  the  women ;  and 
feeling  this,  Dessie  was  more  gracious. 

In  this  way  he  blinded  her  completely  to  the  fact  that 
the  house  he  was  taking  her  to  was  his  own,  and  that  his 
object  was  infinitely  treacherous  and  cowardly,  and  when 
the  carriage  was  slackened  and  after  passing  through  a 
pair  of  gates  and  along  a  circular  carriage  drive  was 
pulled  up  sharply  in  front  of  a  small  house  standing  by 
itself  in  pretty  secluded  grounds,  she  still  had  no  sus- 
picion. 

"  This  is  the  place.  Will  you  come  in  ?  "  asked  her 
companion,  and  his  manner  showed  his  nervousness  now 
that  the  critical  moment  had  come. 

Dessie  seemed  to  notice  the  change,  and  it  made  her 
hesitate  about  leaving  the  carriage  and  entering  the 
house. 


252  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  I  don't  think  I'll  come  in,"  she  said,  peering  out  at 
the  house.  "  I  don't  like  the  look  of  the  place.  Do  you 
know  anything  of  the  people  ?  " 

"  Everything,"  he  answered,  recovering  himself  and 
smiling.  "  Come  in.  I  shan't  be  more  than  three  min- 
utes settling  everything." 

Dessie  yielded  reluctantly  and  against  a  subtle  instinct 
which  warned  her  that  all  was  not  right.  She  rose  slowly 
when  the  door  had  been  opened  and  followed  the  baro- 
net up  the  steps  of  the  house. 

As  she  was  in  the  act  of  entering,  the  sound  of  wheels 
caught  her  ear,  and  turning  to  glance  back  she  saw  a  cab 
enter  the  carriage  drive  at  a  quick  pace,  the  occupant 
being  the  Count  de  Montalt. 

She  stopped  on  the  very  threshold,  and  would  have 
turned  back,  but  her  companion  grasped  her  arm  firmly. 

"  This  is  the  room,  Miss  Merrion,"  he  exclaimed,  and 
hurried  her  into  one  on  the  right.  Then  with  a  laugh,  he 
added,  "  I  call  this  now  the  cage,  and  you  are  the  bird." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  exclaimed  Dessie,  very  an- 
grily. 

"  Simply  that  this  is  my  house  and  you  are  my  guest." 

"  You  mean  you  have  trapped  me  here  ? "  cried  the 
girl  indignantly. 

"  I  mean  that  I  am  only  too  delighted  to  have  you  as 
my  guest;  but  this  gentleman  will  help  to  explain  mat- 
ters ;  "  and  as  he  spoke  the  Count  de  Montalt  entered  the 
room. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

IN  THE   HAND  OF  THE   ENEMY 

THE  Count  came  in  smiling  and  suave  as  usual,  and 
his  eyes  showed  a  gleam  of  excitement  at  the  success  of 
the  plan  which  had  been  so  rapidly  formed. 

Dessie  herself  was  filled  with  fear,  but  she  was  far 
too  shrewd  to  betray  her  feelings.  She  knew  the  char- 
acter of  the  one  man  profoundly — that  there  was  no 
length  of  villainy  and  even  cruelty  from  which  he  would 
flinch.  To  let  him  see  that  she  was  afraid  of  him  would 
have  been  sheer  madness. 

As  to  Sir  Edmund  Landale,  she  was  in  doubt.  He  was 
rather  de  Montalt's  dupe  than  his  accomplice,  and  it  re- 
mained for  her  to  see  how  far  he  was  a  conscious  tool. 
Much  would  depend  upon  her  accurate  reading  of  the 
relations  between  the  two  men,  and  on  the  adroitness 
with  which  she  could  play  off  the  one  against  the  other. 

But  her  contempt  for  the  baronet  was  intense,  and  she 
could  not  but  recognise  how  insecure  her  chances  of  es- 
cape from  evil  were,  since  they  depended  only  or  mainly 
upon  his  not  proving  so  big  a  rascal  as  he  appeared. 

It  was  a  desperate  position,  indeed;  and  as  the  con- 
siderations flashed  one  after  another  through  the  girl's 
thoughts  she  seemed  to  understand  how  great  her  peril 
might  really  be,  and  what  terrible  consequences  would 
certainly  follow  any  false  move  on  her  part. 

Her  first  step  was  clear.  She  must  ascertain  what  the 
men  wanted.  Putting  a  bold  front  upon  matters,  there- 


254  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

fore,  she  waited  only  until  the  Count  had  closed  the  door, 
and  then  addressed  him  sharply: 

"  Sir  Edmund  Landale  tells  me  that  you  have  taken 
the  chief  part  in  entrapping  me  here.  Why  have  you 
done  so  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Miss  Merrion,  you  can  surely  answer  that 
question  for  yourself,  without  my  help,"  he  answered, 
smoothly.  "  There  can  be  but  one  reason.  My  friend 
has  an  overpowering  desire  for  your  company.  His  in- 
terests are  mine;  his  desires,  in  this  case,  mine — "  he 
spoke  here  with  a  double  meaning,  which  he  managed  to 
convey  in  a  particularly  expressive  glance,  "  and  what 
could  I  do  but  place  my  poor  services  at  his  disposal  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  speaking  the  truth,"  said  Dessie,  curtly. 
"  You  are  not  the  man  to  act  without  having  your  own 
interest  first.  What  is  it  that  you  want?  What  is  your 
price  ?  "  she  asked  contemptuously. 

"  You  are  naturally  angry  at  having  been  caught  in 
this  way — and  I  excuse  that  most  gratuitous  insult.  I 
have  no  price.  I  seek  nothing.  So  far  as  I  am  con- 
cerned you  are  as  free  as  air  to  go  when  you  please." 

"  You  mean  you  were  paid  to  get  me  here,  and  having 
done  your  dirty  work  your  master  will  pay  you." 

"  I  mean  nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  replied,  imperturb- 
ably.  "  I  have  no  object  whatever  of  my  own  to  seek." 

He  was  lying,  obviously;  and  the  girl  rapidly  sought 
for  the  reason,  ransacking  her  mind  for  a  probable  clue 
to  his  conduct.  Why  should  he  deny  that  he  had  an 
object  in  getting  her  into  the  power  of  himself  and  the 
other  ? 

"  If  I  can  go  I  will,"  said  Dessie,  suddenly ;  and  she 
turned  and  walked  quickly  to  the  door.  The  baronet 
put  himself  in  the  way,  while  de  Montalt  looked  on 
smiling. 


In  the  Hand  of  the  Enemy  255 

"  You  can't  go  yet,  Dessie,"  said  the  former. 

a  Will  you  tell  me  the  truth — why  I  have  been  brought 
here?  Do  you  believe  that  man  when  he  says  he  has 
no  object  of  his  own  to  serve  in  trapping  me?  " 

"  It  does  not  matter  to  me  whether  he  has  or  not,"  was 
the  answer,  rather  doggedly  spoken.  "  You  are  here,  in 
my  house — in  my  power  if  you  will ;  and  I  cannot  let  you 
go." 

"  What  is  your  price  ?  "  asked  the  girl,  defiantly. 

"  You  can  only  leave  this  house  as  my  wife."  The 
answer  came,  clearly  spoken,  with  a  determination  that 
evidenced  the  obstinacy  of  a  selfish  man. 

"  Then  I  will  die  here,"  answered  the  girl,  with  equal 
determination,  as  she  moved  back  and  sat  down. 

The  Count  laughed. 

"  It  is  a  very  pretty  situation,"  he  said,  "  very  pretty  in- 
deed. Strephon  is  mad  with  his  great  purpose,  has 
caught  pretty  Phyllis  in  the  toils,  and  threatens  all  the 
pains  and  penalties  of  unrequited  love  if  she  will  not 
yield  to  his  suit;  and  Phyllis  sits  down  in  a  chair  and 
calls  on  Death  to  come  and  shake  her  resolution  with  a 
touch  of  his  cold,  grimy  ringer.  I  don't  think  you'll  wait 
for  Death,  Miss  Merrion.  You'll  find  him  a  cold  con- 
soler." 

Dessie  took  no  notice  of  him ;  and  a  long  silence  fol- 
lowed, broken  at  length  by  a  sneering  laugh  from  the 
Count. 

"  I  think  you  ought  to  know  part  of  the  truth,  at  any 
rate.  I  am  not  ashamed  nor  afraid  to  tell  my  share  in 
this  business.  You  owe  it  to  me  entirely,  and  not  to  my 
friend  here,  that  you  have  been  brought  to  this  house. 
I  ought  to  make  the  admission,  and  I  do  freely,  because 
otherwise  you  may  do  what  I  see  you  are  inclined  to  do 
— put  some  of  the  blame  upon  him.  I  told  this  gentleman 


256  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

that  it  was  a  matter  of  the  greatest  urgency  for  me  to 
have  you  taken  somewhere,  in  order  that  I  might  have 
an  absolutely  secret  interview.  He  believed  me;  and  I 
laid  the  plans  accordingly.  As  you  have  probably  guessed, 
the  crowd  of  women  into  whose  mrdst  you  walked  half 
an  hour  ago  were  paid  by  me  to  molest  you.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  it  Sir  Edmund  here  drove  up  and  you  jumped  into 
the  brougham  in  the  belief  that  you  were  being  saved 
from  a  very  awkward  fix.  A  word  or  two  of  explanation 
secured  your  being  brought  here  to  this  house.  And  my 
friend  consented  to  the  little  deception  because  he  be- 
lieved he  was  rendering  me  a  great  service.  There  I  de- 
ceived him.  That  is  the  true  story  of  your  coming  here ; 
and  until  now  I  have  not  had  an  opportunity  to  explain 
to  him  that  my  motive  was  not  at  all  what  he  thought, 
but  solely  to  help  him.  I  caused  him  to  do  what,  for 
himself  and  on  his  own  account,  he  would  never  have 
done;  and  you  must  please  not  blame  him  when  the 
whole  share  falls  to  me.  I  am  not  afraid  to  carry  it." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  finished,  and  with  a 
waft  of  the  hand  seemed  to  throw  the  responsibility  away 
from  him. 

"  I  am  sure  that  is  not  true,"  said  Dessie,  readily.  "  In 
the  first  place  it  sounds  false;  and  in  the  second  it  is  so 
utterly  out  of  character  with  everything  I  know  about 
you,  that  I  don't  believe  it  for  a  moment.  Do  you  know 
who  this  man  is  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  upon  Sir  Edmund 
and  pointing  at  de  Montalt. 

The  latter  interposed  swiftly. 

"  The  question  is  not  who  I  am ;  and  we  should  not 
accept  the  description  of  a  young  lady  who,  having  been 
considerably  outwitted,  is  angry  with  the  man  who  has 
outwitted  her." 


In  the  Hand  of  the  Enemy          257 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  warning  and  threatening  ex- 
pression which  made  her  pause. 

She  began  to  read  the  riddle  now ;  and  the  knowledge 
gave  her  some  little  encouragement. 

Clearly  he  did  not  wish  her  to  tell  the  baronet  his 
real  character;  and  this  told  her  that  his  apparent  in-' 
difference  to  her  presence  in  the  house  was  the  result  of 
some  calculated  purpose.  This  gave  her  a  ray  of  hope. 
If  he  was  playing  a  double  game,  against  Sir  Edmund 
Landale  as  well  as  against  herself,  her  own  wits  would 
probably  soon  show  her  a  way  to  help  herself.  She  must 
first  see  what  knowledge  the  other  man  possessed. 

"  How  much  do  you  know  of  what  has  passed  between 
this — gentleman  and  myself  ?  Has  he  told  you  any- 
thing?" she  asked  sharply,  turning  again  to  Sir  Ed- 
mund. 

"  What  is  there  that  he  should  know  ?  "  interpolated 
Montalt. 

"  What  do  I  want  to  know  ?  That  is  the  question.  I 
care  not  a  jot  for  anything  he  may  have  said  to  you  or 
you  to  him.  You  are  here.  That  is  enough  for  me." 

"  I  begin  to  understand  the  position  now,"  said  the 
girl,  quietly.  "  And  it  will  not  turn  out  as  you  think. 
My  friends  are  neither  fools  nor  powerless." 

"  They  won't  look  for  you  in  Sir  Edmund  Landale's 
arms,  all  the  same,"  sneered  de  Montalt.  "  You  don't 
seem  to  understand  the  position,  for  all  your  words.  No 
one  knows  that  you  are  here.  No  one  can  possibly  trace 
you  here.  No  one  can,  therefore,  look  for  you  here.  So 
far  as  others  are  concerned  you  have  disappeared — that's 
all.  Thousands  of  people  drop  out  of  sight  in  London 
every  year — and  there  are  thousands  of  reasons  to  ac- 
count for  it.  What  is  one  young  woman  more  or  less  in 


258  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

big,  brawling  London  ?  Why,  a  thousand  might  go  and 
not  one  be  missed." 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  Dessie,  firmly,  though  her  heart 
sank,  for  she  knew  there  was  plenty  of  truth  in  what  he 
said. 

"  Yes,  we  shall  see ;  and  as  the  days  pass  and  you  do 
not  return  it  will  only  be  set  down  to  your  eccentricity. 
You  will  not  forget  that  once  before  you  had  to  cut  adrift 
all  connections  with  your  old  life  and  make  a  plucky  start 
"in  a  new  one.  If  once,  why  not  twice?  Don't  deceive 
yourself.  You  can't  be  found  here  in  this  house;  and 
wnen  the  little  splash  of  your  jump  into  the  pool  of  ob- 
scurity has  subsided,  and  the  surface  is  all  calm  again, 
you  will  be  absolutely  forgotten." 

"  Do  you  mean  you  are  going  to  keep  me  here  for- 
ever ?  "  asked  Dessie,  laughing  incredulously.  "  We  are 
not  playing  a  melodrama,  we  three." 

"  Nevertheless,  you  will  not  find  it  easy  to  escape,"  was 
the  reply,  coldly  and  deliberately  spoken.  "  And  you  are 
forgetting  one  thing.  You  are  alone  in  the  house,  and 
there  are  no  other  women  here.  You  can  only  leave  it 
— more  than  compromised." 

At  the  words  Dessie  turned  chill.  She  had  had  in  her 
mind  the  fear  of  personal  danger  only,  and  this  other 
effect  had  escaped  her  altogether. 

She  looked  straight  at  Sir  Edmund  Landale. 

"  Do  you  bear  out  this  man's  words?  "  she  asked. 

He  said  nothing,  and  would  not  meet  her  eyes. 

"  You  hear  what  I  say  ?  "  she  said,  her  heart  sinking 
within  her  at  his  silence.  "  Have  you  sunk  so  low  that 
you  can  contemplate  the  dastardly  scheme  of  trying  to 
force  me  to  marry  you  by  such  a  means  as  this  ?  " 

There  was  a  long  pause,  in  which  he  stood  irresolute 
and  uneasy  under  the  steady  look  of  her  eyes.  He  looked 


In  the  Hand  of  the  Enemy         259 

up  swiftly  once,  but  as  quickly  let  his  eyes  fall ;  and  when 
he  did  answer  it  was  with  a  sort  of  sullen  defiance  which 
was  perceptible  alike  in  his  manner,  tone  and  words. 

"  I've  told  you  more  than  once  I'd  do  anything  to  win 
you,  and  I  meant  it.  Any  way  that  makes  you  give  in  to 
me  is  welcome,  and — you  must  give  in  now." 

"  Then  heaven  help  you  for  a  pitiful  scoundrel,"  cried 
the  girl  desperately.  "  And  mark  this :  I'll  starve  rather 
than  yield  to  you.  Ten  thousand  times  sooner  than  be 
your  wife  I'll  kill  myself,  and  do  it  cheerfully." 

"  I  shall  not  give  up  for  any  hot  words  spoken  now," 
replied  Landale.  "  Nothing  shall  make  me  give  up  now, 
indeed,  when  I  have  the  whole  thing  in  my  hands." 

"  We  shall  see,"  answered  Dessie,  smiling  as  if  in 
rather  contemptuous  disbelief,  but  inwardly  very  much 
afraid.  "  Perhaps  you'll  tell  me  what  I  am  to  do  ? 
Where  is  my  jail ?  Who  my  jailer?  What  my  jail  food ? 
The  whole  thing  is  so  monstrous  that  I  am  compelled  to 
laugh  at  it." 

"  Nevertheless,  you  will  find  it  no  farce,"  said  the 
Count  de  Montalt,  angrily,  "  and  no  laughing  matter." 

"  Nor  you  either,"  answered  Dessie,  resolutely.  "  If  I 
do  not  make  all  London  ring  with  the  infamy  of  this 
my  pen  has  lost  its  cunning." 

"  People  are  not  generally  eager  to  write  up  their  owri 
defeat  or  their  own  dishonour.  Wait,"  he  said,  with  a 
malicious  sneer. 

"  It  is  not  only  my  own  defeat  I  should  have  to  record," 
retorted  the  girl.  "  But  do  what  you  will.  I  am  in- 
different." 

"  Your  rooms  are  upstairs.  Will  you  go  to  them  ?  " 
said  Sir  Edmund,  after  a  moment  of  silence. 

"  Do  you  mean  will  I  go  quietly  or  shall  I  require  you 
to  carry  me  ?  "  asked  Dessie,  laughing.  "  It  might  be 


260  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

more  melodramatic  if  I  were  to  scream  and  struggle  and 
force  you  to  gag  and  carry  me,  as  people  would  have  to, 
say  in  one  of  my  stories.  But  I  prefer  to  look  at  the  farce 
of  the  thing  and  walk.  I  presume  that  a  day  or  two's 
reflection  will  show  you  the  rank  absurdity  of  this  ridic- 
ulous conduct,  or,  at  any  rate,  convince  you  that  you  had 
better  make  terms  with  me  instead  of  being  gibbeted  all 
over  London  and  in  half  the  papers  in  the  kingdom  as 
the  hero  of  a  sort  of  illegitimate  Jackson  case.  Which, 
is  the  way?  Show  me."  She  stood  facing  the  two  men 
pluckily,  and  laughing  to  hide  the  genuine  dismay  that 
she  felt. 

The  baronet  opened  the  door  and  led  the  way  upstairs, 
the  Count  de  Montalt  following  close  on  Bessie's  heels, 
as  though  to  prevent  any  attempt  at  escape.  But  she  was 
far  too  shrewd  to  make  any  effort  of  the  kind.  It  would 
have  been  useless  then.  If  she  was  to  escape,  it  must  be 
when  the  men  were  far  less  on  their  guard  than  at  that 
moment. 

She  entered  the  rooms  they  showed  her  without  the 
least  hesitation,  standing  a  moment  to  make  a  rapid  sur- 
vey. 

"  Has  it  been  the  padded  room  of  a  madhouse  ?  "  she 
asked,  with  a  laugh.  "  It  might  have  been." 

This  was  true  enough.  The  first  was  a  lofty  room, 
lighted  from  a  skylight,  and  the  bedroom,  which  adjoined 
it,  with  a  strong  door  between  them,  was  equally  lofty, 
and  also  lighted  from  the  top. 

Escape  from  such  a  place  was  absolutely  hopeless  was 
Dessie's  first  thought ;  and  this  increased  her  fears.  But 
she  hid  them  under  the  laughter  of  ridicule  and  indiffer- 
ence. 

"  It  will  make  an  excellent  study,"  she  said,  lightly, 
when  her  first  question  remained  unanswered.  "  I  sup- 


In  the  Hand  of  the  Enemy          261 

pose,  jailer,  I  can  have  paper  and  ink.  I'll  begin  my  story 
at  once." 

"  You  have  but  to  ask  and  you  can  have  everything  you 
want." 

"Everything?  Oh,  then,  I'll  have  my  liberty,  please," 
she  said,  in  the  same  light  tone. 

"  Everything  but  that,"  answered  Landale.  "  You  are 
at  home,  the  mistress  of  the  house,  and  can  order  what 
you  please." 

"  Can  I  ?  Then  turn  that  man  out  of  the  room,"  she 
cried,  pointing  at  de  Montalt,  who  smiled ;  "  and  never 
let  him  enter  it  again.  And  do  you  follow  him." 

"  You  are  a  plucky  girl,  Miss  Merrion,"  said  the  Count, 
with  an  air  of  admiration,  "  and  for  once  at  any  rate,  you 
have  but  to  speak  to  be  obeyed.  I  must  go.  Can  I  take 
any  message  to  my  Dora  ?  " 

He  smiled,  and  bowed  to  her  with  mock  politeness, 
and  then  taking  the  other  man  by  the  arm,  went  out  of 
the  room  with  him,  leaving  Dessie  in  a  condition  of  min- 
gled relief  at  his  departure,  impotent  anger  at  her  present 
plight,  and  rapidly  rising  alarm  on  the  score  of  possible 
consequences. 

Could  her  friends  find  her?  If  not,  what  was  to  hap- 
pen? 


CHAPTER  XXV 

FACE  TO   FACE 

WHILE  Dessie  was  thus  plagued  by  her  doubts  and 
fears,  matters  were  moving  very  fast  outside.  Mrs.  Dave- 
nant's  return  had  been  the  signal  for  some  very  energetic 
action  on  the  part  of  Tom  Cheriton.  He  could  not  leave 
his  uncle,  in  consequence  of  the  latter's  critical  condition, 
but  he  set  some  machinery  in  motion  which  could  not 
but  have  important  consequences. 

Mrs.  Davenant  told  him  frankly  and  fully  all  that  she 
knew  about  de  Montalt,  disclosing  without  reserve  the 
incidents  which  had  culminated  in  the  meeting  of  her- 
self and  Dessie  at  Birmingham  station.  But  she  added 
that  there  was  evidently  something  more  behind  than 
Bessie's  possession  of  the  rubies,  though  the  girl  would 
say  nothing. 

"  Are  you  sure  this  is  the  man  ? "  Cheriton  asked. 
"  Quite  sure  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  we  spoke  together  about  it  when  I  saw 
him  at  that  infatuated  woman's  house,  where  he  played 
me  that  trick." 

"  And  he  didn't  attempt  to  deny  himself?  " 

"  Certainly  not.  How  could  he?  Instead  of  that,  he 
ran  away,  leaving  me  the  letter  I  have  given  you." 

"  Can  you  guess  why  he  bolted  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  should  think  to  get  the  widow  out  of  our 
way.  He  has  two  objects — to  make  that  woman  his  wife, 


Face  to  Face  263 

and  so  stop  our  mouths  out  of  Bessie's  regard  for  her; 
and  secondly  to  get  possession  of  the  rubies — to  frighten 
Dessie  out  of  them." 

"  I  think  I  see  what  to  do/'  said  Cheriton,  after  a 
pause  of  thought.  "  I  wish  I  could  get  up  to  town  to 
Dessie.  But  wishing's  no  use.  I  shall  wire  a  hint  of  the 
truth  to  someone  who'll  move  heaven  and  earth  to  outwit 
the  Frenchman.  That's  Vezey,  the  fellow  who  was 
going  to  marry  the  widow  till  the  other  man  turned  up. 
If  anyone  can  ferret  the  two  out,  he  will." 

With  that  he  despatched  a  telegram  to  George  Vezey, 
to  his  London  address,  telling  him  that  he  had  found  out 
the  true  history  about  the  Count  de  Montalt,  and  urging 
him  to  wire  at  once  where  Mrs.  Markham  was. 

George  Vezey  was  at  Brighton  when  this  telegram  was 
delivered,  and  it  was  sent  on  to  him  by  post.  It  reached 
him  the  next  morning,  and  he  replied  at  once  that  he  had 
met  Mrs.  Markham  and  de  Montalt  at  the  station;  she 
was  staying  at  the  Grand  Hotel,  and  that,  if  the  facts 
were  wired  him,  he  would  see  her  at  once. 

A  telegram  from  Cheriton  was  the  result,  saying,  "  His 
real  name  is  Rolande  Lespard;  been  tried  and  convicted 

for  murder.  Warn  Mrs.  M "  With  that  telegram 

in  his  pocket,  Vezey  went  to  the  Grand  Hotel. 

He  saw  there  was  much  restraint  in  Mrs.  Markham's 
manner  when  she  greeted  him,  and  she  made  little  secret 
that  she  was  not  pleased  to  see  him. 

"  I  am  very  busy  to-day,  George,"  she  said,  "  and  I 
can't  give  you  more  than  a  few  minutes.  I  really  ought 
to  have  been  '  not  at  home  '  to  you ;  but  I  didn't  want  to 
be  rude." 

"  It's  awfully  good  of  you  to  be  so  frank,"  he  an- 
swered with  a  dry  laugh.  "  But  you  needn't  apologise.  I 
suppose  that  Count  fellow  keeps  you  pretty  well  to  him- 


264  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

self.  But  I've  got  some  bad  news  for  you,  I'm  sorry  to 
say." 

"  You  don't  look  it,"  she  retorted  sharply.  "  But  then 
you're  very  much  changed.  You  used  to  be  so  nice." 

"  I'm  not  the  only  one  that's  changed." 

"  If  you've  come  to  be  disagreeable  and  say  nasty 
things  about  my  friends,  and  make  insinuations,  I'd  much 
rather  you'd  go  away  and  leave  them  unsaid." 

"  My  dear  Dora,  you  don't  give  a  fellow  a  fair  chance. 
I'm  awfully  sorry  if  I've  got  to  hurt  your  feelings — but  I 
must  tell  the  truth." 

"  Look  here,  George  Vezey,"  said  the  little  woman,  get- 
ting up  and  speaking  angrily  in  defense  of  the  man  she 
loved.  "  If  you're  thinking  of  saying  anything  against 
the  Count  de  Montalt  behind  his  back  which  you  daren't 
say  to  his  face,  don't  come  to  me.  I  suppose  you've 
watched  him  out  of  the  town,  and  come  now  because  you 
know  I'm  alone.  It's  not  very  plucky." 

"  There's  no  need  to  sneer  at  me  like  that,"  said  Vezey, 
warmly.  "  I  haven't  invented  the  bad  news,  I  suppose." 
Then  changing,  he  said  gently,  "  Look  here,  Dora,  don't 
say  these  raspy  things.  You  know  how  they  cut  me.  I 
Have  come  to  speak  to  you  about  the  man  who  calls  him- 
self the  Count  de  Montalt ;  but  I  didn't  know  he  wasn't 
here.  I'll  wait  till  he  comes  back,  if  you  like.  Only  it's 
something  that  must  be  told,  and  can  easily  be  tested." 

"  I  don't  care  when  you  say  it,  or  what  you  say 
either,  for  that  matter,"  said  Mrs.  Markham,  with  as- 
sumed indifference.  "  One  time  is  as  good  as  another 
for  a  slander;  and  if  you  want  to  say  anything,  say  it, 
by  all  means." 

"  What  do  you  mean  will  make  no  difference.  Don't 
you  care  who  the  man  is,  or  what  he  has  done  then  ?  " 

"  I  care  nothing  what  you  may  say  he  has  done." 


Face  to  Face  265 

"  It's  not  what  I  say " 

"  No.  I  suppose  it's  Mr.  Tom  Cheriton,"  cried  the 
widow,  impetuously,  with  a  sharp  guess.  "  He  would 
say  anything  against  Godefroi,  because  he  believes  he 
has  had  something  to  do  with  Dessie  Merrion  having 
jilted  him.  If  you  have  no  better  authority  for  your 
slander  you  needn't  expect  me  to  pay  any  heed  to  it." 

"  It  is  from  Cheriton,  and  you  can  do  what  you  like 
about  believing  it.  He  tells  me  that  de  Montalt  is  not 
only  no  Count,  but  is  a  man  who  has  had  a  most  awful 
past." 

"  Past,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Markham,  laughing.  "  What 
have  I  to  do  with  his  past  ?  It  is  his  future  he  gives  me ; 
not  the  past.  What  does  your  friend  say  next  ?  " 

"  Dora,  you're  a  fool ;  a  perfect  little  fool,"  burst  out 
Vezey,  very  angrily.  The  sight  of  her  feeling  for  the 
other  man  irritated  him  beyond  endurance,  while  her 
evident  intention  to  pay  no  heed  to  what  was  told  her 
aggravated  the  feeling  tenfold. 

"  You  forget  yourself,  Mr.  Vezey,"  she  said,  rising 
again.  "  You  must  excuse  me,  I  am  very  busy." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  It's  I  am  the  fool.  A  confounded 
fool  to  care  two  straws  about  the  matter  at  all.  But  I'm 
not  going  to  see  you  give  yourself  to  a  villain  like  that 
and  hold  my  tongue." 

"  I  will  have  you  shown  out  of  the  room  if  you  dare 
to  say  another  word  against  the  man  I  am  going  to  marry, 
in  spite  of  you  or  all  the  Merrions  and  Cheritons  on  the 
earth,"  and  she  stamped  her  foot  in  temper. 

"  Read  this,"  he  said,  holding  out  the  telegram.  "  I 
wanted  to  break  the  news ;  but  if  you're  such  an  impet- 
uous little  spitfire,  you  must  take  the  consequences." 

"  This  is  my  answer/'  she  said ;  and  she  tore  up  the 
telegram  into  little  pieces.  "  I  won't  believe  any  such 


266  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

slander  against  the  man  I  love.  Now,  will  you  go  away  ? 
I  am  expecting  him  back  every  minute,  and  if  he  finds  you 
here  and  learns  what  you  have  said,  I  will  not  answer  for 
the  consequences.  You  are  not  strong,"  she  added,  with 
a  curl  of  the  lip. 

"  Thank  you ;  you  have  been  as  ungenerous  as  a 
woman  could  well  be  to  a  man  whom  she  has  treated  as 
you  have  me.  I  have  warned  you ;  I  can  do  no  more.  I 
shall  now  deal  with  him.  I  am  going  to  the  police." 

a  Stop  a  minute,  George.  I'm  sorry  I  sneered,"  she 
said,  laying  a  detaining  hand  on  his  sleeve.  "  But  you 
don't  know  what  is  behind  this.  I  do.  You  are  being 
made  only  the  tool  of  a  bitter  woman,  who  seeks  this 
revenge  for  a  disappointed  intrigue.  I  know  all  about 
this.  There  is  not  an  atom  of  truth  in  it." 

"  I  think  there  is,"  he  answered,  making  ready  to  go, 
"  and  I  shall  find  means  to  get  at  the  truth  within  an  hour 
or  two.  Don't  blame  me  now  if  there  is  a  public  scandal. 
You  leave  me  and  others  no  choice." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  do  ?  "  Mrs.  Markham  was  all 
indecision  and  instability  the  moment  she  found  herself 
opposed  by  a  resolute  will.  It  had  occurred  to  her  now 
that  if  there  really  was  anything  against  her  lover  she 
might  unwittingly  bring  him  into  trouble  by  forcing 
Vezey  to  go  to  the  police. 

Her  companion  saw  her  irresolution,  but  did  not  un- 
derstand it,  though  he  determined  to  make  use  of  it. 

"  All  I  ask  is  simple  enough,"  he  said.  "  Have  this 
thing  sifted.  Let  us  face  the  man  and  see  what  he  him- 
self says.  If  we're  wrong  you  can  set  us  all  down  for  a 
pack  of  meddlesome  dogs ;  if  we're  right,  then  you  will 
be  saved  from  heaven  only  knows  what  sort  of  a  future. 
Let  us  go  back  to  London,  and  have  the  Count,  as  he 
calls  himself,  face  to  face  with  us." 


Face  to  Face  267 

"  To  do  that  would  be  to  insult  him  with  the  idea  that 
I  believe  this  hideous  story,"  she  cried,  irresolutely. 

"  Not  to  do  it  will  be  to  put  the  police  on  his  track 
perhaps,"  answered  Vezey,  bluntly.  "  You  can  choose." 

"  I  hate  you !  "  she  flashed  out,  impulsively. 

"  You  won't  when  the  fever's  over,"  he  answered, 
laconically ;  and  he  stuck  to  his  point  doggedly  until  Mrs. 
Markham  was  obliged  to  yield,  and  had  to  consent  to 
return  to  town.  It  had  been  arranged  that  in  the  event 
of  her  wishing  to  communicate  with  de  Montalt,  she  was 
to  wire  to  the  hotel  in  London  where  he  had  been  staying, 
and  a  telegram  was  now  sent  off  to  tell  him  what  had 
happened. 

As  soon  as  that  had  been  done,  Vezey  sent  a  telegram 
to  Cheriton,  telling  him  the  result  of  the  interview,  and 
urging  him  to  come  up  to  London  so  as  to  be  present  at 
the  interview  with  the  Frenchman,  and  thus  be  ready 
with  proofs  to  checkmate  him  at  once. 

The  telegram  reached  the  Count  de  Montalt  at  a  mo- 
ment when  he  was  in  considerable  perplexity.  Every- 
thing promised  well  for  the  desperate  coup  he  had 
planned ;  but  his  doubts  arose  in  the  following  way.  He 
had  satisfied  himself  that  Dessie  still  had  the  jewels  with 
her,  and  he  knew  that  she  would  be  unable  either  to  get 
out  of  the  house  at  St.  John's  Wood  with  them,  or  to  hide 
them  there  in  any  place  where  he  would  not  be  able  to 
find  them.  He  knew,  too,  that  there  was  not  the  remotest 
chance  of  her  agreeing  to  Sir  Edmund  Landale's  terms. 
She  would  starve  sooner.  And  he  felt  that  he  had  her 
thus  safely  in  his  power. 

But  he  felt  that  he  ought  to  make  assurance  doubly 
sure,  and  after  getting  rid  of  the  baronet  in  some  way 
force  the  jewels  out  of  Dessie  at  once  by  threats  or  prom- 
ises. His  rough  plan  was  to  make  the  giving  up  of  the 


268  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

rubies  the  price  of  Bessie's  liberty ;  and  he  did  not  doubt 
for  a  moment  that  she  would  pay  it. 

To  do  that  would  take  time,  however,  and  he  had  al- 
ready been  so  long  away  from  Mrs.  Markham  that  lie 
feared  to  cause  her  uneasiness  or  suspicion — a  most  unde- 
sirable thing  at  such  a  moment  of  crisis.  But  there  was 
another  and  much  more  serious  obstacle.  Sir  "Edmund 
Landale,  having  got  Dessie  into  his  house,  was  not  at  all 
disposed  to  trust  the  charge  of  her  to  anyone  else.  He 
would  not  be  persuaded  to  leave  the  place  at  all;  and 
thus  de  Montalt  decided  to  leave  the  getting  of  the  jewels 
to  another  time. 

He  went  straight  to  his  hotel,  and  found  there  the  tele- 
gram from  Brighton  announcing  Mrs.  Markham's  return, 
telling  him  that  strange  charges  had  been  made,  and  ask- 
ing him  to  go  to  Edgcumbe  Square. 

Instinctively  he  scented  danger,  and  as  quickly  pre- 
pared himself  to  face  it.  A  glance  at  his  watch  and  at 
the  time  when  the  telegram  was  despatched  showed  him 
that  he  might  yet  be  able  to  intercept  Mrs.  Markham  at 
the  station ;  and  a  couple  of  minutes  later  he  was  being 
driven  swiftly  to  Victoria. 

He  must  meet  her  alone  if  possible,  as  it  was  then  that 
his  influence  could  be  best  exerted.  He  attributed  the 
present  change  to  George  Vezey;  but  he  was  confident 
that  he  could  overcome  any  doubts  which  the  latter 
might  raise  in  the  widow's  mind. 

At  the  station  he  was  beaten.  A  train  was  almost  due 
when  he  arrived,  and  he  waited  for  it.  But  there  were 
no  signs  of  either  Mrs.  Markham  or  Vezey ;  and  his  ill- 
luck  angered  him.  It  was  the  train  she  was  almost  sure 
to  have  caught,  and  it  was  clear  that  she  must  have  trav- 
elled by  another  route.  He  set  this  down  to  Vezey 's  in- 
terference also,  and  cursed  him  for  it,  There  was  noth* 


Face  to  Face  269 

ing  left  therefore,  but  to  go  with  all  speed  to  Edgcumbe 
Square  and  wait  there  for  her. 

He  bit  his  moustache  in  ill  temper  as  he  drove  away. 
Nothing  annoyed  him  more  than  to  make  a  miscalculation 
of  the  kind ;  and  his  superstition  made  him  look  on  it  as 
a  bad  omen. 

At  Edgcumbe  Square  he  found  that  the  servants  were 
expecting  their  mistress,  but  she  had  not  arrived.  There 
was  a  telegram  telling  them  to  make  preparations;  but 
that  was  all.  He  said  he  would  wait,  and  went  into  the 
library  to  smoke  a  cigar  and  think. 

What  could  have  happened?  He  did  not  like  the  look 
of  things  at  all;  and  the  minutes  of  his  waiting  seemed 
to  pass  on  leaden  wings.  He  detested  inaction,  and  noth- 
ing wrung  him  like  suspense.  He  chafed  now  like  a 
caged  animal. 

After  he  had  waited  in  this  impatient  fume  for  nearly 
an  hour  the  bell  was  rung  loudly  enough  to  attract  his 
attention.  He  thought  it  was  Mrs.  Markham,  but  as  no 
one  came  to  tell  him  of  her  arrival  he  rang  and  asked 
the  servant  who  it  was. 

The  answer  startled  him  more  than  enough. 

"  Mr.  Cheriton  and  a  lady,  sir ;  "  and  the  man  had 
scarcely  ended  his  reply  before  Mrs.  Markham  and 
George  Vezey  arrived,  the  former  very  cross,  and 
troubled,  and  bitter.  Her  anger  was  increased  when  she 
heard  that  Tom  Cheriton  was  waiting;  but  Vezey  was 
infinitely  pleased. 

The  widow  went  straight  to  the  Count,  Vezey  close 
at  her  heels.  When  de  Montalt  saw  her  he  rose,  and 
with  an  expression  that  implied  the  strongest  reproach, 
asked : 

"  Why  have  you  done  this  ?  "  Then  he  took  her  hands 
and  held  them. 


270  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  I  can  answer  that  best,"  said  Vezey,  interposing. 
"  It's  my  doing.  I  went  to  Mrs.  Markham  after  you  had 
left  Brighton,  and  told  her  I  had  heard  certain  things 
against  you,  and  that  she  had  better  come  back  here  and 
have  it  out  face  to  face.  At  first  she  wouldn't,  and  only 
gave  in  when  I  said  that  if  she  didn't  I'd  go  straight  to 
the  police  and  see  what  they  had  to  say.  She  caved 
in  then;  not  because  she  believes  me,  but  to  avoid  a 
row." 

"  It's  very  good  of  you  to  interfere,"  said  de  Montalt, 
with  angry  sarcasm  changing  into  a  threatening  tone, 

"  but  I  should  like  to  know  what  the you  mean  by 

it." 

"  I  clidn't  believe  a  word  of  what  was  said,  Godefroi, 
but  you  were  not  there  and  I  didn't  know  what  to  do," 
wailed  Mrs.  Markham,  shrinking  from  the  wrath  she  saw 
on  his  face. 

a  I'll  tell  you  quite  plainly  what  I  mean  by  it,"  said 
Vezey.  "  I  am  told  your  real  name  is  Lespard,  and  not 
de  Montalt;  that  you  are  no  more  a  Count  than  I  am; 
and  that  not  so  many  years  ago  you  were  tried  for  your 
life  and  convicted.  Is  that  true?" 

"  Is  this  what  has  brought  you  up  trembling  and 
frightened  all  the  way  from  Brighton,  Dora?  I  am  sur- 
prised." He  spoke  very  gently,  with  an  infinitely  clever 
assumption  of  absolute  indifference  to  the  charge  and  a 
suggestion  that  what  disturbed  him  was  not  the  charge 
against  himself,  but  the  fact  that  she  should  have  been 
troubled  by  hearing  it.  "  Of  course  you  didn't  believe 
it;  I  know  that.  Never  mind."  Then  he  put  his  arm 
round  her,  as  if  to  reassure  her,  and  turned  with  an  as- 
sumption of  great  dignity  to  George  Vezey.  "  The  im- 
pudent tale  that  you  now  venture  to  tell  is  quite  beneath 
my  notice.  Mrs.  Markham  knows  perfectly  well  where 


Face  to  Face  271 

to  look  for  the  source  of  it.  You  would  have  acted  a 
more  manly  part  had  you  come  in  the  first  instance  to  me, 
instead  of  trying  to  frighten  a  woman." 

His  assurance  and  manner  produced  a  great  effect  on 
Vezey,  and  more  than  half  persuaded  him  of  the  ground- 
lessness of  the  charge. 

"  It  is  ngt  my  tale,"  he  said,  after  a  pause.  "  It  is  Mr. 
Cheriton's ;  and  as  he  is  here  in  the  house  he  had  better 
come  in.  I'll  fetch  him." 

With  that  he  left  the  room,  and  the  moment  he  was 
gone  de  Montalt  threw  his  arms  round  the  woman  who 
was  clinging  so  trustingly  and  lovingly  to  him  and  kissed 
her  passionately. 

"  You  believe  in  me,  sweetheart  ?  "  he  asked,  looking 
into  her  eyes. 

"  Nothing  on  earth  shall  ever  shake  my  faith.  I  care 
nothing  if  only  you  love  me,"  she  murmured  with  passion 
equal  to  his  own.  Then  he  stood  with  her  hand  in  his, 
as  calmly  as  though  not  a  word  had  been  whispered 
against  him. 

Tom  Cheriton,  Mrs.  Davenant  and  Vezey  came  in 
together. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  be  here  on  such  an  errand,  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham,"  said  Cheriton.  "  I  am  afraid  it  must  pain  you  to 
hear  what  we  have  to  say." 

"  If  it  is  anything  against  the  Count  de  Montalt,  Mr, 
Cheriton,  you  will  find  me  an  unwilling  listener,"  said 
Mrs.  Markham,  stoutly. 

"  It  is  nothing  against  the  Count  de  Montalt,"  said 
Cheriton,  emphasising  the  name.  "  It  is  against  Ro- 
lande  Lespard,  the  man  whose  hand  you  are  holding,  and 
who  has  imposed  himself  upon  you.  He  is  Rolande  Les- 
pard, and  five  years  ago  was  tried  and  convicted  of  the 
murder  of  his  uncle,  old  Paul  Duvivier." 


272  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

"  What  proof  have  you  of  this  monstrous  story  ?  " 
asked  the  widow. 

"  I  can  prove  it,"  said  Mrs.  Davenant.  "  I  was  present 
when  he  was  arrested,  and  when  I  was " 

"  What  were  you  doing  when  you  were  as  you  say 
present?"  Mrs.  Markham  suggested  by  her  manner  of 
asking  this  question  that  she  knew  the  answer,  and  her 
lip  curled. 

"  It  is  not  a  pleasant  story,  but  I  am  prepared  to  tell  it 
in  such  a  case  as  this,"  answered  Mrs.  Davenant,  quietly. 

"  I  do  not  want  to  hear  it,  thank  you.  I  know  enough 
of  the  facts  to  more  than  satisfy  me  of  your  motive  in 
coming  here  to  try  and  make  mischief.  I  must  ask  you, 
Mr.  Cheriton,  to  be  good  enough  to  take  the  lady  away." 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  kind  until  you  know  the 
facts,"  he  said. 

"  Then  I  shall  call  my  servants  to  my  assistance,"  an- 
swered Mrs.  Markham,  angrily. 

There  was  a  pause  of  much  awkwardness,  and  before 
anyone  broke  the  silence  a  servant  knocked  and  entered. 

"  A  lady  wishes  to  see  you,  mum,"  began  the  man, 
when  the  door  was  thrust  open  wide  and  Daphne  Mar- 
low,  in  her  nurse's  uniform,  came  in  quickly. 

"  I  will  speak  for  myself,"  she  said  brusquely  to  the 
servant,  and  while  he  left  the  room  all  the  rest  looked  at 
her  with  profound  astonishment. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

DAPHNE'S  STORY 

No  one  was  so  keenly  moved  by  the  entrance  of 
Daphne  Marlow  as  the  Count  de  Montalt.  But  he  did 
not  allow  himself  to  be  surprised,  since  he  had  foreseen 
that  the  sisters  would  be  sure  to  attempt  some  communi- 
cation with  Mrs.  Markham  to  stop  the  marriage,  and  it 
was  likely  enough  that  as  Dessie  had  not  returned,  the 
first  place  her  sister  would  look  for  her  would  be  at  Mrs. 
Markham's.  But  her  arrival  was  none  the  less  unwel- 
come because  it  was  probable.  He  had  to  choose  his 
course  rapidly,  and  as  he  had  all  the  facts  which  were 
necessary  to  enable  him  to  judge  what  must  now  almost 
inevitably  happen,  he  had  formed  his  resolve  almost  as 
soon  as  Daphne  had  entered  the  room. 

"  I  have  come  in  search  of  Dessie  Merrion,"  she  said, 
in  her  firm,  melodious  voice.  "  I  must  ask  you  to  pardon 
my  coming  in  unannounced,  madam,  but  the  matter  is  so 
urgent  and  so  unusual  that  I  could  not  wait." 

"  Miss  Merrion  is  not  here.  What  do  you  mean  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  Markham,  who  took  the  interruption  in  very 
bad  part.  She  had  released  her  hold  of  the  Count's  hand 
and  came  forward  to  speak  to  the  new  comer. 

"  I  learn  that  she  has  not  been  here,  either,"  said 

Daphne ;  "  and  it  is  because  of  that  and  because  this 

gentleman  was  here  that  I  came  in  as  I  did."  She  hesi- 
tated over  the  term,  and  after  glancing  quickly  and 
shrewdly  at  the  other  three  people  who  were  in  the  room, 

273 


274  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

she  added :  "  I  have  much  to  say  that  concerns  him,  and 
perhaps  we  had  better  be  in  private." 

Tom  Cheriton  took  in  the  situation  instantly. 

"  You  can  speak  before  us  freely.  My  name  is  Cheri- 
ton ;  Miss  Merrion  is  my  affianced  wife ;  Mrs.  Davenant 
and  Mr.  Vezey  are  here  on  much  the  same  errand  as 
yours.  We  have  just  told  Mrs.  Markham  that  that  man 
is  not  what  he  says,  the  Count  de  Montalt,  but  Rolande 
Lespard,  a  convicted  felon.  If  you  can  give  additional 
proof,  do  so  at  once." 

Daphne  looked  across  at  de  Montalt  fixedly  during  a 
long  pause ;  and  he  returned  her  look  with  equal  steadi- 
ness. 

"  He  will  not  deny  himself  to  me,"  she  said,  quietly, 
"  and  if  he  does,  it  will  be  useless.  He  knows  that.  It 
is  not  more  than  a  few  hours  since  we  met  in  Bessie's 
rooms,  and  he  knew  that  I  had  resolved  to  r,un  the  risk 
of  exposing  him." 

"  Godefroi ! "  The  cry  came  like  an  appeal  in  pain, 
and  Mrs.  Markham  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  the 
deepest  agitation.  The  statement  that  he  had  been  in 
Dessie's  rooms  moved  her  more  than  all  the  charges. 

"  You  vowed  you  would  trust  me,"  he  answered.  "  I 
swear  to  you  there  is  some  horrible  mistake.  All  these 
people  are  mistaking  me  for  some  other  man.  Don't  you 
believe  me?"  He  went  to  her  side  and  took  her  hand, 
pressing  it  feverishly. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  you,"  answered  the  woman,  yielding  at 
his  touch. 

"  Then  let  us  clear  the  house  of  these  slanderers,  whose 
sole  object  is  to  malign  me  for  their  advantage,  and  so  to 
try  and  part  us." 

He  made  as  if  to  lead  Mrs.  Markham  out  of  the  room, 
but  Daphne  quietly  stepped  in  front  of  the  door. 


Daphne's  Story  275 

n  No,"  she  cried,  in  a  voice  that  rang  vith  decision. 
"  You  know  me  better  than  that.  I  have  not  come  here 
to  be  baulked  in  this  manner.  If  you  attempt  to  play 
false  with  me  now  I  will  put  you  straight  into  the  hands 
of  the  police — you  know  for  what  crime." 

"  Stand  out  of  the  way,"  he  cried  angrily,  "  or  I'll 
force  you." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Cheriton,  going  quickly  across  to 
Daphne's  side.  "  There  can  be  no  talk  of  force  here. 
You  are  not  alone  with  women.  Mrs.  Markham,  you 
must  see  that  there  i-s  much  more  here  than  either  you 
or  I  can  understand  as  yet." 

"  If  I  cannot  leave  a  room  in  my  own  house  when  I 
please,  Mr.  Cheriton,  what  am  I  to  think  ?  "  said  the 
widow,  now  very  angry. 

"  You  cannot,"  said  Daphne ;  and  in  another  in- 
stant she  had  locked  the  door  and  handed  the  key  to 
Cheriton.  "Keep  it,  Mr.  Cheriton,  while  what  has  to  be 
said  is  said  in  this  room.  If  this  lady  insists  upon  the 
door  being  broken  open,  send  for  the  police — and  the 
first  constable  that  comes  will  take  out  that  man  as  his 
prisoner." 

The  Frenchman  threw  up  his  hands  with  his  familiar 
gesture  of  indifference,  while  he  mentally  cursed  himself 
for  not  having  secured  the  key  of  the  room. 

"  My  dear  Dora,  you  really  ought  to  take  better  meas- 
ures to  keep  the  house  free  from  lunatics,"  he  said  lightly 
and  with  a  sneer.  "  But  if  this  particular  lunatic  wishes 
to  tell  us  a  story  and  locks  us  all  in  to  make  sure  of  an 
audience  I've  no  special  objection.  It's  always  best  to 
humour  this  sort  of  madness  I've  heard.  Come,  child, 
sit  by  me  and  let  us  be  amused  together.  Now,  what  is 
it  you  wish  to  say?  Please  say  it  and  take  the  collection 
quickly,  and  then  go  home  again." 


±76  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

The  ineffable  impudence  of  his  manner  was  indescrib* 
ably  galling  but  it  had  no  effect  upon  Daphne. 

"  I  am  prepared  to  tell  the  whole  story,  if  you  are  pre- 
pared to  listen,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  I  cannot  understand  you  at  all,"  cried  Mrs.  Markham, 
in  dismay  and  perplexity. 

"  That  man  and  I  are  old  associates,  Mrs.  Markham. 
In  years  gone  by  I  lived  a  life  all  wildness  and  wrong, 
and  he  was  my  companion  and  backer." 

"  I  care  nothing  about  what  happened  years  ago." 
said  the  widow,  holding  fast  by  her  love  and  faith. 

"  It  climaxed  in  a  deed  that  made  all  England  ring  with 
sensational  horror — a  deed  of  blood.  I  was  held  guilty 
of  it,  and  he  committed  it.  Knowing  that  I  should  have 
the  greatest  difficulty  in  proving  my  innocence  I  fled, 
and  from  that  moment  changed  my  life.  I  became  what 
you  see  by  my  uniform  I  am — a  nurse,  Nurse  Morland. 
He  hid  as  well,  and  took  with  him  some  of  the  ill-gotten 
proceeds  of  that  crime;  he  forced  them  from  me  by 
threats.  The  chief  of  them  were  three  rubies  of  priceless 
value — the  Rubies  of  Rohilkund.  For  these  a  large  re- 
ward was  offered,  and  I  know  that  he  carried  them  about 
with  him  for  some  time,  afraid  or  unwilling  to  get  rid 
of  them.  During  the  time  he  was  thus  hiding  he  went 
to  the  home  of  an  uncle,  Paul  Duvivier,  in  the  Southwest 
of  France,  and  from  motives  of  greed  murdered  the  old 
man  in  his  sleep.  He  was  suspected,  but  for  the  time 
escaped  and  returned  to  England." 

"  All  this  is  nothing  to  me.  I  don't  believe  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Markham,  impetuously.  "  I  believe  you  are  all 
actuated  by  wrong  motives  against  him.  I  won't  believe 
it." 

"  It  is  all  capable  of  proof  in  ten  minutes'  time,"  was 
the  deliberate  answer.  "  In  England,  though  under  what 


Daphne's  Sto^y  277 

circumstances  I  do  not  know,  he  was  mixed  up  with  some 
one  in  the  Midlands ;  and  he  was  one  day  at  Birmingham 
station  in  the  company  of  some  woman,  when  he  was 
arrested  on  an  extradition  warrant  for  the  murder  of  his 
uncle,  tried,  convicted,  and  sentenced." 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  What  is  it  to  me  ?  "  persisted  the 
widow,  determined  not  to  credit  a  word  of  the  tale.  "  I 
have  heard  of  it  already  once  to-day." 

"  If  you  will  be  patient  a  moment  even  you  will  see 
the  truth.  When  that  arrest  took  place,  Dessie  Mer- 
rion " 

"  Who  ?  "  ejaculated  the  Count  with  a  sneer. 

"  For  the  present,  Dessie  Merrion.  You  will  under- 
stand the  meaning  of  that  sneer  in  a  moment.  By  itself 
it  is  a  proof  that  he  knows  full  well  the  truth  of  every 
word  I  utter.  Dessie  was  on  the  platform,  saw  the  arrest, 
warned  the  man's  companion  of  what  had  taken  place, 
and  induced  her  to  fly.  In  the  excitement  the  two 
women  exchanged  handbags,  and  when  Dessie  looked 
into  hers,  she  found  the  Rohilkund  rubies  cunningly  hid- 
den. She  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  them,  and 
eventually  locked  them  up  in  a  safe  with  the  Deposit 
Company  here  in  London.  They  have  been  a  burden  to 
her  ever  since." 

"  Why  did  she  not  give  them  over  to  the  police  ?  "  asked 
Cheriton,  who  had  listened  to  this  part  of  the  story  with 
breathless  interest. 

"  For  two  reasons.  Her  own  bag  was  returned  to  her 
and  with  it  a  letter  saying  she  was  to  destroy  everything 
in  the  one  which  she  had  taken  in  mistake,  except  such 
things  as  she  would  see  the  writer  would  wish  to  have 
again,  if  ever  she  dared  to  claim  them.  But  the  second 
was  the  main  reason.  She  was  flying  from  an  old  life 
of  evil  associations  and  surroundings  and  trying  to  make 


278  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

a  new  start  in  a  new  name ;  and  she  felt  that  if  she  had  to 
stand  the  fire  of  any  inquiries,  the  whole  opportunity  of 
the  new  chance  would  be  shut.  She  preferred  silence — 
and,  I  say,  preferred  it  wisely." 

"  How  do  you  mean — a  life  of  evil  surroundings  ?  I 
have  never  heard  a  word  of  this,"  said  Tom  Cheriton. 

"  Prudence  again,  I  suppose,"  ejaculated  the  Count, 
with  a  sneer. 

"  Probably  she  put  off  the  telling  for  the  same  reason 
we  all  put  off  the  doing  of  unpleasant  things — and  she 
put  it  off  until  too  late.  But  let  me  go  on.  She  put  these 
jewels  away,  expecting  never  to  hear  any  more  of  the 
matter,  and  certainly  never  to  see  the  man  again.  But 
she  was  wrong.  You  know  what  her  life  has  been  for 
the  last  four  or  five  years,  Mrs.  Markham,  for  you  were 
her  chief  friend.  You  can  judge  then  of  her  horror  when, 
in  the  man  whom  you  were  to  marry,  she  recognised  the 
Rolande  Lespard  who  had  been  convicted  of  the  cruel 
murder  of  his  uncle." 

"  She  said  nothing  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Markham. 

"  For  years  the  mere  thought  of  the  man  had  been 
a  terror  to  her,  and  for  the  moment  she  was  at  a  loss  what 
to  do.  Then  she  resolved  to  tell  Mr.  Cheriton  the  next 
morning.  But  before  she  left  here,  you  will  remember, 
she  had  a  long  interview  with  the  man  himself.  She  told 
him  pluckily  that  she  recognised  him,  and  warned  him  not 
to  come  here  again.  After  that  she  went  to  find  you, 
Mr.  Cheriton ;  but  you  had  been  called  away,  and  she  was 
thus  left  alone  to  fight  this  man  single-handed;  and  it 
is  no  surprise  that  he  beat  her." 

"  Beat  her?  How  could  he  do  that  if  this  extraordi- 
nary tale  be  true?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Markham,  with  in- 
dignant disbelief. 

"For  reasons  that  do  credit  to  that  villain's  skill," 


Daphne's  Story  279 

cried  Daphne,  for  the  first  time  showing  signs  of  her 
indignation.  "  He  first  attempted  to  poison  her  in  this 
very  house.  Do  you  remember  a  cup  of  tea  being  spilt 
and  broken  ?  That  was  poisoned,  and  we  have  the  proof 
in  the  analysis.  Then  he  searched  her  room  here  that 
night,  to  try  and  regain  possession  of  the  poisoned  tea. 
He  failed — Mr.  Vezey  here  can  tell  you  something  of 
that — but  he  found  a  clue  to  the  fact  that  she  was  in 
reality  the  possessor  of  the  jewels,  the  woman  he  had 
been  searching  for,  and  then,  jumping  to  the  conclusion 
that  there  was  some  secret  in  her  life,  he  got  into  her 
rooms,  ransacked  her  papers,  and  found  there  enough 
to  show  him  her  identity.  His  own  knowledge  and  some 
other  help  from  a  congenial  scoundrel,  Sir  Edmund  Lan- 
dale,  led  him  to  know  the  secret  sorrow  and  fear  of  her 
life,  so  that  he  could  hold  his  knowledge  over  her,  and  not 
only  threaten  her  with  exposure  if  she  exposed  him,  but 
also  put  me  in  the  dock  on  the  charge  of  murder." 

"And  you?  Who  are  you?"  asked  Mrs.  Markham, 
sharply. 

"  I  am  her  sister.  It  was  to  protect  me  from  the  fate 
which  this  man  threatened  that  she  consented  to  give  up 
you  and  bear  all  the  weight  of  this  secret.  A  nobler  or 
purer  girl  does  not  breathe  than  my  sister — Dorothy.  Her 
name  is  Dorothy,  and,  like  mine,  Marlow.  We  are  the 
daughters  of  a  father  who  was  convicted  of  forgery,  and 
the  sisters  of  a  brother  who  was  tempted  by  his  own 
father  into  crime.  That  was  the  life  she  was  flying  from. 
She  would  tell  you  nothing,  Mr.  Cheriton,  when  you 
questioned  her  the  other  day,  because,  in  her  opinion,  it 
was  too  late.  When  she  was  engaged  to  you,  and,  indeed, 
until  she  came  to  me,  three  days  ago  in  the  North,  she 
knew  nothing  of  the  deed  the  exposure  of  which  this  man 
was  able  to  hold  over  her  as  a  threat  should  she  expose 


280  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

him.  She  would  never  have  told  you,  but  have  gone  on 
bearing  the  load  in  silence,  had  I  not  come  up  and  said 
I  would  tell  the  truth  at  any  cost." 

"  Poor  Dessie !  What  she  must  have  suffered !  "  ex- 
claimed Cheriton.  "  Where  is  she  now  ?  Why  not 
here?" 

"  She  left  her  rooms  to  come  here  some  hours  ago, 
soon  after  this  man  had  been  there,  and  she  was  to  come 
back  the  moment  she  had  seen  Mrs.  Markham.  She  did 
not  return,  so  I  came  after  her;  and  now  I  learn  she  has 
not  been  here  at  all.  I  know  well  enough  where  to  put 
the  blame  for  devilry  of  this  kind ;  and  when  I  heard  that 
man  was  here,  I  resolved  to  come  and  ask  him  where  she 
is." 

"  You  might  as  well  ask  me  where  last  night's  moon 
is,"  exclaimed  de  Montalt,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  I  have 
had  enough  of  this  rigmarole  and  am  tired  of  it.  I 
don't  know  where  this  young  woman  without  a  name  is, 
and  don't  want  to  know.  Moreover,  if  I  did  know,  I  cer- 
tainly should  not  utter  a  word  to  help  you.  Now,  Dora," 
he  added,  in  a  sharper  voice,  "  What  are  we  to  do  next  ? 
Are  you  as  tired  of  this  cage  as  I  am  ?  I  may  say  at  once 
that  so  far  as  this  story  goes,  I  shall  take  only  one  course. 
It  is  true  that  Miss  Merrion — or  Miss  Marlow,  or  who- 
ever she  is — did  make  this  very  preposterous  accusa- 
tion against  me.  I  held  it  back  from  you  because  I  did 
not  want  you  to  be  worried  with  fables  of  that  ridiculous 
character.  But  I  did  then  what  I  will  do  now.  I  will  leave 
it  to  Mr.  Cheriton,  who  is  an  English  lawyer,  to  decide 
what  proofs  he  wishes  to  have  that  there  has  been  noth- 
ing but  a  hideous  mistake  in  regard  to  me.  I  shall  have 
no  difficulty  whatever  in  explaining  the  nature  of  this  ex- 
traordinary resemblance." 

"  Resemblance !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Davenant,  speaking 


Daphne's  Story  281 

now  for  the  first  time.  "  Why,  when  I  was  here  yester- 
day you  did  not  attempt  to  deny  your  identity." 

"  Nevertheless,  the  fact  is  as  I  say,"  he  returned,  quite 
unmoved.  "  I  can  explain  the  whole  matter  to  Mr. 
Cheriton's  complete  satisfaction,  and  am  ready  to  do  so." 

"  No  time  like  the  present,"  said  Tom  Cheriton.  "  Do 
it  before  we  leave  the  room." 

"  I  must  get  to  my  papers.  They  are  at  my  hotel.  You 
can  come  with  me;  and  if  you  give  me  your  word  that 
I  shall  never  be  offended  by  seeing  you  again,  you  need 
not  take  your  eyes  off  me  until  I  have  convinced  you." 

"  I  can  trust  myself  so  far,"  said  Tom ;  and  he  opened 
the  door. 

"  In  less  than  an  hour  I  shall  be  back,  Dora,"  said  de 
Montalt  to  Mrs.  Markham.  "And  then  at  last  we  shall 
be  freed  from  this  canaille."  He  growled  the  word  from 
between  his  teeth. 

"  Mr.  Cheriton,  you  will  need  all  your  wits.  He  is 
never  more  treacherous  than  when  complying,"  said 
Daphne,  warningly.  "  You  had  better  have  the  police." 

"  You  shall  have  them  when  I  return,"  said  de  Montalt. 

A  cab  was  fetched  and  the  two  men  left  together,  de 
Montalt  with  a  profusion  of  regrets  for  tearing  himself 
away  from  Mrs.  Markham  for  even  an  hour ;  and  his  last 
word  was  a  pledge  of  honour  to  be  back  within  the  hour. 
But  he  had  already  made  up  his  mind  that  he  could  never 
set  his  foot  inside  the  house  again.  He  knew  when  he 
was  beaten;  and  he  knew  now  that  so  far  as  marrying 
Mrs.  Markham  was  concerned  the  chance  was  utterly  lost. 

He  ceased  to  strive,  therefore,  and  chose  the  one  re- 
maining course  that  was  open  to  him. 

He  intended  to  shake  off  Cheriton  and  make  a  dash 
for  St.  John's  Wood,  get  the  rubies  from  Dessie,  and  then 
laugh  at  those  who  had  found  him  out. 


282  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

It  was  quite  dusk  as  the  cab  rattled  along  the  Bromp- 
ton  Road,  and  the  two  men  sat  side  by  side  in  stolid  si- 
lence; de  Montalt  thinking  quickly  as  to  the  best  means 
of  getting  rid  of  his  companion. 

Fortune  favored  him.  When  the  cab  reached  Hyde 
Park  Corner  there  was  a  block  and  a  crowd  caused  by  a 
street  accident.  The  cab  stopped,  and  Cheriton,  in  his 
eagerness  to  see  what  had  happened,  rose  from  his  seat 
and  holding  by  the  rail  of  the  splash  board,  stood  up  to 
look  out. 

Watching  his  opportunity,  de  Montalt  grabbed  the 
reins  as  they  hung  in  the  front,  pulled  them  with  a  violent 
jerk  on  the  horse's  mouth,  and  so  caused  the  animal  to 
start  back  suddenly.  At  the  same  instant  he  put  all  his 
strength  into  one  vigorous  thrust,  and  pushed  his  com- 
panion off  the  cab  into  the  road,  where  he  staggered  and 
nearly  fell.  He  recovered  himself  in  a  moment  or  two. 
But  it  was  too  late. 

The  cab  was  empty.  De  Montalt  had  sprung  out  on 
the  other  side,  and  dashing  in  among  the  people,  was  lost 
sight  of  directly  among  the  surging,  heaving  crowd. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

WITH    INTENT   TO    MURDER 

THE  elation  which  de  Montalt  felt  at  having  so  easily 
shaken  off  the  inconvenient  companionship  of  Tom  Cheri- 
ton  soon  gave  way  to  a  fit  of  intense  passion  at  the  failure 
of  his  plans. 

Despite  his  practised  and  habitual  self-restraint,  his 
ill-temper  completely  mastered  him,  and  as  the  thought 
grew  upon  him  that  the  chief  cause  of  all  was  the  girl 
who  had  first  bearded  him,  his  rage  concentrated  itself 
upon  her.  If  it  had  not  been  for  Dessie,  nothing  could 
have  robbed  him  of  success,  no  one  would  have  had  a 
suspicion  of  his  real  identity,  and  nothing  could  have 
stepped  in  between  him  and  his  purpose. 

Gradually  the  feeling  prompted  a  desire  of  revenge 
upon  her,  and  he  began  to  think  how  best  to  shape  his 
plans  so  as  to  take  that  revenge  completely  and  safely. 

In  her  present  position  he  ought  to  have  no  difficulty  in 
getting  her  absolutely  at  his  mercy.  She  was  in  Lan dale's 
house,  alone,  unprotected,  and  absolutely  defenceless. 
Not  a  soul,  save  himself,  Landale,  and  the  confidential 
blackguard  of  a  servant,  knew  of  her  presence  there,  and 
if  anything  was  to  happen  to  the  girl — if  she  were  to  die 
suddenly,  for  mstance — the  trouble  would  be  much  more 
likely  to  fall  on  the  baronet  than  on  him.  And  that  sort 
of  shield  for  his  own  crimes  had  always  had  an  attraction 
for  him. 

There  was  one  difficulty.     He  had  tried  to  get  Sir  Ed- 


284  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

mund  out  of  the  house  before,  and  had  failed.  If  he 
could  think  of  a  ruse  to  effect  that,  the  rest  would  be  easy. 
But  if  not,  the  man  must  take  his  chance  of  what  hap- 
pened. 

He  turned  this  problem  over  and  over  in  his  thoughts, 
and  at  last  resolved  to  send  a  telegram  saying  that  he  him- 
self had  met  with  a  very  serious  accident,  and  had  made  a 
most  important  discovery,  which  must  be  disclosed  to  Sir 
Edmund  at  once,  if  he  would  come  to  the  hotel. 

He  thought  round  this  very  shrewdly,  and  mentally 
approved  the  plan.  He  would  send  off  the  telegram,  fol- 
low in  person  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  thus  watch  the 
baronet  out  of  the  house.  If  the  bait  was  taken  the  coast 
would  be  clear  for  at  least  an  hour,  and  in  that  time  he 
could  do  everything. 

But  before  despatching  the  telegram  he  had  to  do  two 
things — to  prepare  for  what  might  happen  if  he  succeeded 
in  luring  the  baronet  away,  and  a  much  more  critical  mat- 
ter, to  prepare  for  what  he  might  have  to  do  if  the  ruse 
failed.  He  was  not  a  man  to  stick  at  half  measures.  He 
meant  to  get  the  rubies  into  his  possession  by  fair  means 
or  foul,  and  also  to  vent  upon  Dessie  his  rage  at  the  fail- 
ure of  his  plans. 

In  one  shop  he  bought  a  revolver  and  a  handful  of  car- 
tridges, and  in  another  a  long,  ugly-looking  knife.  It 
might  be  dangerous  to  use  firearms,  he  thought. 

As  soon  as  he  had  completed  the  purchases,  he  jumped 
into  a  cab,  and  was  driven  to  the  post-office  nearest  to 
his  hotel,  and  from  there  he  sent  off  the  decoy  telegram. 

He  took  this  trouble  so  that  there  might  be  no  loophole 
for  the  other  man's  suspicions  to  creep  in ;  and  as  soon  as 
he  had  handed  the  form  to  the  clerk,  he  got  into  his  cab 
again,  and  told  the  man  to  drive  with  all  possible  speed 
to  St.  John's  Wood. 


With  Intent  to  Murder  285 

When  he  reached  the  place  he  chose  a  spot  from  which 
he  could  watch  the  gateway  of  Landale's  house,  and  note 
the  effect  of  his  message. 

His  cabman  had  beaten  the  telegraph  office.  He  had 
been  some  minutes  at  his  post  of  vigilance  before  he  saw 
a  lad  in  uniform  come  lounging  up  the  road  and  as  he 
neared  the  house,  begin  to  fumble  in  his  wallet  for  the 
message,  and  search  for  the  name  and  number  of  the 
house. 

He  watched  him  deliver  it,  and  saw  him  come  out 
again,  and  go  back  the  way  he  had  come,  swinging  his 
arms  and  whistling  loudly. 

Ten  minutes  later,  to  his  intense  pleasure,  de  Montalt 
saw  the  bait  had  been  swallowed.  The  baronet  himself 
came  out  of  the  gate,  looked  up  and  down  the  road  as  if 
for  a  cab,  and  then  turned  and  walked  at  a  brisk  pace  in 
the  direction  of  the  town. 

As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight,  de  Montalt  slipped  from 
his  hiding  place,  crossed  the  road  rapidly,  walked  up  the 
drive  to  the  front  door,  and  rang  the  bell.  He  waited  im- 
patiently for  the  door  to  be  opened.  He  was  eager  to  get 
to  work.  He  had  much  to  do,  and  only  a  little  time  to  do 
it  in.  An  hour  at  the  utmost  would  bring  Landale 
floundering  back,  with  the  knowledge  that  he  had  been 
fooled;  and  probably  with  more  knowledge  than  that  if 
Cheriton  went  on  to  the  hotel,  as  was  exceedingly  prob- 
able. 

When  no  one  answered  his  ring  his  impatience  grew 
rapidly,  and  he  pealed  the  bell  twice  very  vigorously. 
He  could  hear  it  clanging  in  the  lower  part  of  the  house, 
but  still  no  one  came  to  open  the  door,  and  then  he  began 
to  guess  the  truth. 

Landale  had  sent  even  his  servant  away;  and  Dessie 
was  absolutely  alone  in  the  house.  His  heart  beat  with1 


286  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

exhilaration  at  the  thought;  and  a  minute  later  he  re- 
solved to  break  into  the  house. 

He  went  to  the  back  of  the  house  to  find  a  weak  spot 
by  which  to  get  in.  All  the  windows  were  fastened ;  but 
he  was  too  old  a  hand  to  be  stopped  by  a  check  of  that 
kind.  Selecting  one  of  the  smallest,  he  passed  the  thin 
long  blade  of  the  knife  between  the  sashes,  and  with  a 
dexterous  movement  unfastened  the  catch  and  opened  the 
window.  Thus,  in  less  than  a  couple  of  minutes  he  was 
inside  the  house,  and  having  fastened  the  window  again 
was  feeling  his  way  through  the  gloomy  passages  and 
kitchens  to  the  staircase. 

He  crept  up  very  silently,  looking  on  all  sides  warily 
to  satisfy  himself  that  no  one  was  about,  and  when  he 
reached  the  hall  he  stepped  quickly  to  the  front  door  and 
shot  the  bolt,  a  smile  of  sardonic  satisfaction  passing  over 
his  face. 

"  Those  who  are  out  can  stop  out,"  he  muttered ;  and 
then  as  soon  as  he  had  made  a  rapid  survey  of  the  rooms 
on  that  floor  he  mounted  the  stairs  quickly  to  the  room 
where  Dessie  was  shut  in.  Before  attempting  to  enter 
that,  however,  he  went  into  every  room  in  the  upper  por- 
tion of  the  house  to  make  sure  the  place  was  quite  empty. 

Everything  was  as  still  as  he  himself  could  have  wished 
it,  and  it  was  with  an  assurance  of  success  that  he  turned 
towards  the  door  of  Bessie's  room. 

But  at  that  point  he  met  with  a  check.  The  key  was 
not  in  the  door,  and  in  the  rapid  search  he  made,  he  could 
see  no  trace  of  it.  Time  was  valuable,  and  he  cursed 
this  piece  of  ill  luck  as  likely  to  cause  some  delay.  He 
first  tried  suasion,  and  knocked  at  the  door.  No  answer 
came  until  he  had  repeated  the  knock  more  than  once,  his 
impatience  showing  in  the  increasing  force  with  which  he 
rapped. 


With  Intent  to  Murder  287 

rt  Who  is  it — and  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  It  is  I,  the  Count  de  Montalt.  I  have  come  to  set 
you  at  liberty." 

"  Thank  you,  I'd  rather  stay  where  I  am,  with  the  door 
between  us,  than  come  out  to  you." 

"  I  have  come  expressly  to  set  you  free." 

"  I  don't  want  freedom  at  your  hands." 

"  Open  the  door." 

"  Not  on  any  consideration." 

"You  had  better." 

"  Your  threats  are  all  one  with  your  wishes.  And  be 
careful,  I  have  arms ;  and  if  you  dare  to  try  force,  I  shall 
use  them." 

De  Montalt  made  no  reply.  It  was  no  use  wasting 
time  in  talk.  There  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but 
to  break  the  door  in,  and  this  was  no  easy  matter.  He 
was  a  man  of  great  strength,  but  though  he  pressed 
against  it  with  all  his  force,  it  withstood  him,  however 
much  he  strained.  In  those  efforts  several  valuable  min- 
utes were  lost. 

He  ran  downstairs  then,  to  rummage  for  some  tool  to 
force  the  door  or  some  wire  to  pick  the  lock ;  and  his  ex- 
citement now  began  to  increase,  as  he  thought  of  the  time 
lost. 

The  hunt  in  the  lower  part  of  the  house  cost  him  several 
more  minutes,  until  at  last  he  found  an  old  tool  chest. 
A  long  iron  chisel  was  among  the  contents,  and  with  an 
exclamation  of  satisfaction,  he  seized  it,  and  ran  upstairs 
again. 

Very  little  work  sufficed  then  to  force  the  door,  and  as 
he  saw  it  yield  to  his  efforts,  he  breathed  hard  with 
pleasure. 

But  the  room  was  empty. 

"  Miss  Merrion,  Miss  Merrion,"  he  called. 


288  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

There  was  no  response,  and  the  place  was  in  complete 
darkness.  He  called  again,  and  then  listened  intently. 

No  one  answered;  but  he  heard  the  sound  of  someone 
moving  in  the  next  room,  and  then  he  remembered,  what 
for  the  instant  had  slipped  out  of  his  thoughts,  that  there 
was  an  inner  room.  The  girl  was  no  doubt  there. 

He  struck  a  light  for  a  moment  to  see  the  position  of 
the  door,  and  then  went  and  rapped  smartly  on  it. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  came  Bessie's  voice  through 
the  door. 

"  I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

"  Then  speak,"  she  answered.  "  There  is  no  one  else 
here." 

"  Come  out ;  I  have  news  for  you.  I  tell  you  I  have 
come  to  set  you  at  liberty." 

"  I  repeat,  I  prefer  to  stay  where  I  am.  Why  are 
you  alone  ?  " 

"  Sir  Edmund  Landale  has  had  to  go  away." 

"  You  are  not  speaking  the  truth ;  and  I  know  now 
that  you  are  here  for  some  black  purpose  of  your  own. 
He  told  me  before  he  left,  not  half  an  hour  ago,  that  he 
was  going  out.  But  you  evidently  know  nothing  of  what 
has  passed  since  you  left  the  house.  The  door  you  broke 
in  was  locked  on  the  inside.  He  himself  gave  me  the  key, 
as  a  proof  that  he  will  not  harm  me.  He  has  given  me 
also  a  revolver  to  shoot  him  if  he  tries  to  molest  me.  So  I 
know  you  are  lying,  and  if  you  dare  to  come  near  me  you 
must  take  the  consequences.  I'll  open  the  door  as  soon 
as  I  hear  Sir  Edmund  Landale's  voice,  and  not  before." 

De  Montalt's  reply  was  an  oath  breathed  into  his  mous- 
tache, and  a  vigorous  attack  upon  the  second  door. 

It  was  soon  half  open,  and  then  he  began  to  show  cau- 
tion. 


With  Intent  to  Murder  289 

It  was  no  part  of  his  plan  to  give  the  girl  a  chance  of 
shooting  him,  though  he  was  not  much  afraid  of  her  skill. 

"  I  can  open  the  door  at  any  moment,  now,"  he  said, 
and  he  put  all  the  menace  into  his  voice  that  he  could. 
"And  I'm  in  no  mood  to  be  trifled  with.  But  I'm  in  a 
hurry.  Hand  out  those  rubies  and  I'll  let  you  off." 

"  I  haven't  them,"  said  Dessie. 

"  I  don't  believe  you.  They  were  on  you  when  you 
came  here,  I  know  that.  Will  you  give  them  up  ?  " 

ft  I  have  given  them  to  Sir  Edmund  Landale ;  and  if 
you  can  get  them  from  him,  you  may  have  them  and 
welcome.  I  told  him  how  I  got  them,  because  I  meant 
him  to  understand  your  reasons  for  trapping  me  here 
and  deceiving  him." 

At  that  moment  the  bell  of  the  front  door  was  rung 
very  furiously,  and  the  clanging  of  it  travelled  up  from 
below. 

De  Montalt  started  at  the  sound  and  rolled  out  an  oath. 

It  was  probably  the  owner  of  the  house  who  had  re- 
turned, to  find  the  door  barred  against  him. 

Obviously  what  had  to  be  done  must  be  done  at  once. 

One  violent  wrench  with  his  weapon  completed  the 
work  on  the  door,  and  it  was  open ;  but  Dessie  had  piled 
every  article  of  furniture  that  she  could  drag  or  lift, 
to  strengthen  the  defences,  and  when  the  Frenchman  per- 
ceived this,  his  rage  passed  all  bounds.  He  broke  out  into 
a  loud  volley  of  threats  and  oaths,  jerking  them  out  as  he 
strained  and  struggled  to  force  his  way  into  the  room. 

"  You  can  do  no  good  if  you  get  in,"  cried  the  girl, 
excitedly.  "  I  tell  you  I  gave  the  stones  to  Sir  Edmund 
Landale,  and  he  has  them  now." 

"  I  can  deal  with  you,  at  any  rate,"  muttered  the  in- 
furiated man  in  reply,  as  with  a  most  vigorous  effort  he 


290  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

forced  the  door  open,  and  sent  the  heap  of  things  piled 
against  it  rattling  and  clattering  to  the  ground  with  a 
great  noise. 

Then  he  sprang  into  the  room,  but  the  next  moment 
he  was  again  checkmated,  for  Dessie  put  out  the  light, 
and  then  ran  swiftly  and  silently  to  a  spot  in  the  room 
which  she  had  previously  selected  for  a  hiding-place. 

This  manoeuvre  baffled  him  absolutely  for  the  moment. 
The  room  was  as  dark  as  a  tomb.  He  did  not  know  a 
foot  space  about  him ;  and  if  he  attempted  to  strike  a  light 
to  look  for  the  girl  or  the  jewels  he  would  immediately 
be  a  plain  mark  for  her  revolver. 

He  was  now  so  enraged  at  this  trick,  and  by  the  way  in 
which  Dessie  continued  to  keep  out  of  his  grasp,  that  his 
usual  calmness  deserted  him,  and  the  mad  desire  to  vent 
his  anger  upon  her  made  it  difficult  for  him  to  think  con- 
nectedly. 

He  stood  a  minute  quite  still,  gnawing  the  ends  of  his 
moustache  and  biting  his  lips  in  perplexity.  Then,  loos- 
ening his  knife  in  its  sheath;  he  dropped  upon  his  hands 
and  knees  and  began  a  systematic  search  of  the  room, 
moving  with  the  care  and  caution  of  an  Indian  scout,  and 
making  as  little  noise  as  possible. 

He  had  explored  half  the  room  in  this  grim  search 
when  a  noise  at  the  other  end  of  the  room  by  the  door 
made  him  jump  to  his  feet  and  rush  in  that  direction, 
in  the  belief  the  girl  was  trying  to  escape  and  had  knocked 
over  something  in  her  flight. 

But  he  could  not  find  her,  and  when  he  stood  to  listen 
with  every  nerve  strained,  the  room  was  as  still  as  a 
death  chamber. 

Then  he  guessed  he  had  been  tricked,  and  that  Dessie 
had  purposely  made  the  noise,  probably  throwing  some- 
thing across  the  room,  to  distract  his  attention. 


The  flash  of  a  revolver  almost  blinded  him. 


Page  297. 


With    Intent  to  Murder  291 

With  another  curse  at  her  cleverness  he  began  his 
search  again,  vowing  under  his  breath  that  if  he  found 
her — and  find  her  he  would —  she  should  pay  with  her  life 
for  all  this. 

Inch  by  inch  he  crept  across  the  floor,  the  deadly  intent 
growing  stronger  in  his  thoughts  with  every  moment  that 
passed,  and  at  every  step  he  took  he  stopped  to  listen, 
and  to  stretch  out  his  hands  on  all  sides  of  him. 

When  they  touched  anything  he  felt  it  carefully,  and 
did  not  let  go  until  he  had  thoroughly  satisfied  himself 
that  it  was  no  part  of  the  girl's  clothing  and  no  place 
where  she  could  possibly  hide.  Now  and  again  he  would 
stop  and  listen  with  the  utmost  acuteness  to  catch  a  sound 
of  her  breathing. 

It  was  a  scheme  sure  to  succeed  in  the  end,  and  pres- 
ently the  hands,  gliding  out  slowly  on  all  sides  of  him, 
touched  something  which  moved. 

It  was  Bessie's  foot ;  and  instantly  his  grasp  tightened 
on  it,  while  he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  devilish  pleas- 
ure at  his  success. 

But  as  suddenly  he  let  go,  for  the  flash  of  a  revolver 
almost  blinded  him,  and  a  succession  of  the  girl's  piercing 
screams  for  help  rang  through  the  still  house. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

A   GRIP   OF   DEATH 

WHEN  de  Montalt  lost  his  hold  of  Dessie  her  screams 
ceased  and  a  rustling  noise  told  him  that  she  had  moved. 
Instantly  he  stretched  out  his  hands  and  groped  rapidly 
in  all  directions  in  the  darkness ;  but  he  could  feel  nothing 
of  her,  and  he  sprang  to  his  feet  therefore  and  went  to  the 
door  of  the  room  lest  she  should  try  to  escape. 

Then  he  held  his  breath  and  listened  again,  but  not  a 
sound  came  to  his  ears.  The  time  was  slipping  away  fast, 
and  yet  he  seemed  no  nearer  the  object  he  had  in  view. 

He  resolved  then  on  a  more  desperate  plan.  He  must 
take  the  risk  of  getting  some  kind  of  light,  and  grapple 
with  the  girl.  He  shut  the  door  of  the  room  and  thrust 
enough  of  the  furniture  against  it  to  make  it  impossible 
for  Dessie  to  escape,  and  then  felt  about  for  the  gas 
bracket,  but  could  not  find  it.  He  cursed  his  ill-luck. 
He  had  now  indeed  lost  all  self-control,  and  was  like  a 
madman  in  his  baffled  fury  and  anxiety  to  get  the  work 
done,  while  his  mind  was  so  inflamed  against  Dessie  that 
he  was  now  to  the  full  as  eager  to  lay  violent  hands  upon 
her  as  fie  was  to  find  the  jewels. 

And  at  this  moment  fortune  favored  him. 

Groping  for  the  gas  bracket  his  hands  came  suddenly 
upon  the  girl,  who  was  standing  in  a  corner  pressed 
against  the  wall  and  covered  by  one  of  the  curtains  of 
the  bed. 

292 


A  Grip  of  Death  293 

"At  last !  "  he  cried  as,  one  hand  seized  her,  while  his 
other  arm  was  flung  round  her,  to  prevent  her  using  the 
revolver  which  he  knew  she  held  ready  to  shoot  him 
down. 

Cautiously  he  felt  for  the  hand  which  held  the  pistol, 
and  finding  it  he  wrenched  the  weapon  from  her  grasp 
and  flung  it  away.  Dessie  meanwhile  sending  up  cry 
after  cry  for  help  in  loud  piercing  tones. 

"  Silence,  you  devil,"  he  cried,  forcing  her  two  hands 
together  and  holding  them  in  an  iron  grip,  while  with 
the  other  hand  he  tore  down  the  curtain  and  half  smoth- 
ered her  in  it  in  order  to  stifle  her  cries. 

Then  he  felt  for  his  knife ;  and  a  loud  imprecation  burst 
from  his  lips  when  he  discovered  that  it  was  gone;  that 
he  must  have  dropped  it  in  the  course  of  his  crawling 
search  on  the  floor. 

"  Will  you  give  those  jewels  up?  "  he  cried,  between  his 
teeth,  emphasising  his  question  with  another  oath ;  which 
was  repeated  when  the  girl  made  no  answer. 

He  shook  her  violently,  and  then  found  she  had  fainted 
from  terror. 

There  was  nothing  to  fear  now  from  getting  a  light, 
so  clasping  her  tightly  in  one  arm  he  struck  a  match  and 
held  it  a  moment  over  her  face,  while  he  scanned  it  closely 
and  savagely,  and  then  glanced  round  for  the  gas  bracket. 
He  carried  her  to  it,  her  body  all  limp  and  flaccid,  and  her 
head  lying  helpless  on  his  shoulder,  and  lit  the  gas. 

But  the  next  instant  he  dropped  the  girl,  who  fell  hud- 
dled up  in  a  heap  on  the  floor  and  turned  to  face  Sir  Ed- 
mund Landale,  who  burst  open  the  door  and  came  rush- 
ing impetuously  into  the  room. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  cried  the  baronet  in  a 
loud  voice. 

"  That  is  my  affair,"  was  the  answer;  while  the  French- 


294  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

man's  hand  went  instantly  to  the  pocket  where  lay  his 
revolver. 

Landale  seeing  the  movement  guessed  its  meaning,  and 
without  another  word  sprang  upon  the  other  man  before 
he  had  time  to  draw  his  weapon. 

A  fierce  and  terrible  struggle  began,  in  which  each  man 
knew  his  life  depended  on  the  issue. 

Sir  Edmund  Landale  had  not  at  first  seen  Dessie  and 
believed  that  she  had  either  escaped  or  been  killed;  but 
just  as  he  grappled  with  his  antagonist,  his  eye  fell  upon 
her  where  she  lay  huddled  together  and  motionless,  and 
the  sight  filled  him  with  added  fury  and  nerved  him  to 
strain  every  possible  effort. 

He  thought  she  was  dead,  and  that  de  Montalt  had 
killed  her ;  for  reasons  he  could  guess,  as  Dessie  had  told 
him  some  of  the  story ;  and  the  thought  lent  such  strength 
and  impetuosity  to  his  attack  that,  though  he  was  the 
weaker  man,  he  bore  the  other  back,  forced  him  to  the 
ground,  and  fastened  his  fingers  on  his  throat. 

With  all  his  faults  he  loved  the  girl  with  all  the  strength 
and  passion  in  his  nature ;  and  the  belief  that  de  Montalt 
had  deliberately  duped  him  to  get  him  out  of  the  house 
so  that  Dessie  might  be  left  at  his  mercy,  and  that  he  had 
broken  in  to  wreak  vengeance  upon  her  in  this  cowardly 
way,  acted  like  an  intoxicating  draught  and  made  his 
frenzy  as  irresistible  for  the  moment  as  it  was  ungovern- 
able. 

But  de  Montalt  on  his  side  had  strength,  and  vastly 
greater  skill  as  a  fighter.  In  courage  he  was  his  assail- 
ant's equal,  in  wariness,  his  superior;  and  when  the  first 
fury  of  the  baronet's  furious  onslaught  had  spent  itself, 
the  issue  of  the  fight  was  as  certain  as  anything  could  be. 
He  let  the  baronet  exert  himself  to  the  utmost  and  pour 
away  prodigally  the  strength  and  breath  that  by  and  by, 


A  Grip  of  Death  295 

when  the  final  tussle  came,  would  probably  cost  him  his 
life.  The  Frenchman  did  little  more  than  render  his 
assailant's  attack  as  little  harmful  as  possible,  while  he 
gathered  his  energies  for  an  effort  with  which  he  meant 
to  decide  the  issue  of  the  fray. 

Gradually  and  quietly,  and  with  absolute  coolness,  he 
gauged  the  limit  of  Landale's  strength  and  power,  and 
made  ready  to  defeat  him.  Little  by  little  he  shifted  his 
position  until  the  man  who  was  gripping  his  throat  with 
hysterical  and  feverish  vehemence  was  forced  into  a  pos- 
ture which  rendered  him  liable  to  be  hurled  aside;  and 
as  soon  as  he  had  judged  his  distance  and  position,  with 
the  wariness  of  a  practised  wrestler,  de  Montalt  got  ready 
for  the  coup  by  which  he  meant  to  get  the  other  at  his 
mercy. 

But  before  it  came,  an  incident  happened  which  affected 
both  men,  and  had  Landale  had  a  weapon  of  any  kind  in 
his  hand  would  probably  have  given  him  an  immediate 
victory. 

The  fall  and  the  subsequent  noise  of  the  fight  roused 
Dessie  from  her  swoon,  and  with  a  great  effort  she 
struggled  up  into  a  sitting  posture.  She  was  dazed  at  the 
furious  fight  which  she  saw,  and  in  confusion  she  fol- 
lowed her  woman's  instinct,  and  began  to  scream  with  all 
her  power. 

The  sound  once  more  nerved  Landale  to  fresh  efforts, 
for  his  weaker  muscles  were  already  beginning  to  tire, 
and  gave  such  an  irresistible  impulse  to  his  attack  that, 
for  the  moment  de  Montalt  was  borne  back  again.  It 
was  only  for  the  moment,  however,  and  the  next  instant, 
gathering  his  strength,  he  tore  the  Englishman's  hands 
from  his  throat,  and  thrusting  him  violently  over,  he 
forced  him  onto  his  back,  and  kneeling  on  him,  held  down 
his  head  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  drew 


296  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

out  his  revolver.  He  was  mad  with  a  merciless  resolve 
to  have  the  lives  of  both. 

But  the  slight  delay  which  her  screams  had  caused 
had  given  Dessie  time  to  gather  her  bewildered  wits  suffi- 
ciently to  understand  something  of  the  terrible  issue  to 
herself  should  Landale  be  killed. 

By  a  stroke  of  luck,  the  revolver  which  the  Frenchman 
had  torn  from  her  grasp,  and  thrown  away,  lay  close  be- 
side her,  and  seizing  it  now,  she  struggled  to  her  feet, 
and  went  close  to  where  the  two  men  were  locked  in  the 
death  struggle.  She  reached  them  just  at  the  moment 
when  de  Montalt  had  drawn  his  own  weapon.  Another 
instant  would  have  been  too  late. 

But  now,  pointing  her  weapon  with  the  muzzle  almost 
touching  the  arm  with  which  de  Montalt  was  holding  his 
revolver,  she  fired. 

A  shout  of  pain  and  rage  told  her  that  her  shot  had 
done  its  work.  The  revolver  fell  on  the  floor,  and  the 
man's  arm  dropped  and  hung  by  his  side. 

An  oath  followed  the  cry  of  pain,  and  still  full  of  fight, 
he  released  his  hold  on  the  baronet,  and  turned  to  attack 
Dessie  with  his  left  hand.  But  the  effort  was  a  vain  one. 
Landale  saw  his  advantage  and  the  girl's  danger  in  a 
moment,  and  snatching  up  the  revolver,  which  had  fallen, 
he  levelled  it  and  fired. 

The  Frenchman  fell  with  a  groan,  and  lay  helpless 
and  bleeding  at  the  very  feet  of  the  girl  whose  life  he  had 
sought  with  such  relentless  intent. 

"Are  you  hurt,  Dessie  ? "  asked  Landale,  gasping  for 
breath  after  his  fearful  exertions. 

"  No,  thank  God;  and  you?  " 

"  But  for  you,  he  would  have  killed  us  both." 

"  We  had  better  get  a  doctor,"  replied  Dessie,  very 
practically. 


A  Grip  of  Death  297 

"  There  is  no  one  else  in  the  house.  Will  you  go,  or 
shall  I?  There  is  one  in  the  street,  about  ten  doors 
to  the  right,  on  this  side." 

"  I'll  go.     I  could  not  bear  to  be  alone  with  him." 

"  You  will  have  to  be  careful  what  you  tell  the  doctor." 

"  The  truth  is  the  best.  The  man  attacked  me  in 
this  room,  broke  in  to  rob  the  house,  and  then  tried  to 
murder  me.  There  is  no  need  now  to  say  why  I  was  here. 
You  came  back  in  time,  and  this  happened." 

When  the  doctor  came,  a  brief  examination  showed  him 
the  extent  of  the  mischief. 

"  He  will  die,"  was  the  verdict.  "  There  is  internal 
hemorrhage.  Nothing  on  earth  can  save  him,  but  he 
may  linger  hours,  and  perhaps  days.  Shall  he  go  to  the 
hospital  ?  " 

"  No,  he  can  stop  in  the  house,"  said  Landale.  "  Send 
in  nurses,  and  do  what  can  be  done.  I  will  have  the  place 
put  in  order." 

The  doctor  was  discretion  itself;  accepted  what  was 
told  him,  asked  no  questions  except  such  as  were  neces- 
sary to  enable  him  to  judge  of  the  "  case,"  and  went  away 
to  make  preparations. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Bessie  ?  "  asked  Sir  Ed- 
mund, when  the  doctor  had  gone,  and  they  were  both 
collected  and  recovered  from  the  effects  of  the  fearful 
scene  through  which  they  had  passed. 

"  I  am  going.  You  scarcely  expect  to  detain  me  here 
after  this,"  she  answered,  a  little  sharply. 

7?  Shall  I  send  you  home  ?  " 

n  No,  thank  you,  I  have  had  enough  experience  of  your 
carriages.  Your  coachman  can't  find  the  way  I  want  to 

go." 

"As  you  please.  Let  me  say  one  word,  however.  I 
have  done  with  the  past  once  and  for  all.  I  swear  to  you. 


298  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

You  saved  my  life  to-night,  and  I  will  prove  to  you  if 
you  will  let  me  that  I  am  grateful." 

"  You  cannot  help  me,"  said  Dessie.  "'That  wretched 
man  upstairs  has  broken  my  life  and  nothing  can  help  me. 
For  all  the  store  I  set  by  it,  he  might  as  well  have  taken 
it." 

"  I  shall  see  CHeriton  and  tell  him  everything  I  have 
done." 

"  Nothing  you  can  say  or  do  to  anyone  can  undo  what 
has  been  done,"  repeated  Dessie. 

They  parted  then.  He  had  walked  with  her  until  she 
found  a  cab,  and  as  he  handed  her  into  it,  he  said,  earn- 
estly— 

"  I  will  give  my  life  to  making  you  happier — and  in 
your  own  way." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  the  change  in  him  pleased  her, 
and  she  was  inclined  to  believe  that  now  at  last  he  was 
indeed  sincere. 

She  drove  at  first  to  her  rooms  in  order  to  relieve  what 
she  knew  must  be  Daphne's  intense  anxiety  on  her  ac- 
count. The  place  was  in  darkness,  however,  and  when 
she  had  lighted  the  gas  she  found  on  the  table  a  hastily 
scribbled  line  from  Daphne  saying  she  had  gone  to  Mrs. 
Markham's,  and  asking  Dessie  to  follow  immediately 
when  she  returned. 

Dessie  ran  down  again,  therefore,  and  told  her  cabman 
to  drive  her  as  fast  as  he  could  to  South  Kensington. 
She  did  not  understand  what  such  a  message  meant ;  but 
as  she  had  intended  to  go  to  Mrs.  Markham's  in  any 
event,  to  carry  the  news  of  the  strange  occurrences  of  the 
afternoon  and  evening,  she  was  content  to  lean  back  in 
the  cab  with  a  feeling  of  pleasure  at  the  rush  of  the  cool 
evening  air  on  her  hot  forehead,  and  of  relief  that  at 
length  one  of  the  chief  strains  was  removed  from  her  life. 


A  Grip  of  Death  299 

The  killing  dilemma  on  which  she  had  been  thrust 
would  be  removed  by  the  death  of  the  man  who  had 
brought  all  this  terror  into  the  last  few  days  of  her  life. 

Her  friend  would  at  any  rate  be  saved  from  marriage 
with  a  wretch  capable  of  such  deeds  as  he  had  nearly 
wrought  that  very  evening.  And  she  shuddered  at  the 
remembrance  of  those  moments  of  literally  awful  sus- 
pense when  she  knew  he  was  groping  about  in  the  dark- 
ness to  find  and  kill  her,  and  she  closed  her  eyes  in  horror 
at  the  recollection  of  her  chill  of  terror  when  his  hands 
had  closed  on  her,  and  she  had  been  face  to  face  with 
death. 

At  South  Kensington  her  surprise  bore  down  all  other 
feelings.  As  soon  as  it  became  known  that  she  had 
arrived,  all  in  the  house  came  flocking  out  into  the  hall 
to  meet  and  greet  her,  and  Tom  Cheriton  who  had  just 
come  back  despondent  from  a  long,  fruitless  search  for 
the  man  who  had  wriggled  so  cleverly  out  of  his  custody 
earlier  in  the  evening,  rushed  to  her  and  took  her  in  his 
arms,  despite  her  protests,  and  half  led,  half  carried  her 
into  the  room,  where  they  had  all  been  sitting  in  suspense. 

"  I  know  everything,  sweetheart,"  he  whispered  on  the 
way.  "  Your  sister  has  told  me ;  and  I'm  only  sorry 
you  thought  it  would  make  any  difference  to  me." 

"  He  would  not  let  me  tell  you,  Tom,"  she  whispered, 
too  happy  at  having  his  arms  round  her  and  feeling  too 
safe  after  all  her  terrible  experiences  to  make  more  than 
a  faint  resistance  when  he  asserted  himself.  "  He  vowed 
the  whole  story  should  be  told,  and  Daphne  made  to  bear 
the  brunt  of  all." 

As  soon  as  they  were  in  the  room  she  broke  away  from 
him  and  went  to  Mrs.  Markham. 

"  Dora,  you  have  a  great  trial  to  bear :  and  I  a  terrible 
story  to  tell  you.  As  all  are  here,  I  suppose  they  have 


300  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

told  you  who  this  Count  de  Montalt  really  is,  and  that  I 
have  known  it  all  along.  It  has  nearly  killed  me  to  have 
to  carry  that  secret  and  to  decide  whether  to  dare  every- 
thing and  let  you  know,  or  to  hold  my  tongue  and  bear  to 
see  you  pass  into  his  power." 

"But  where  have  you  been,  Dessie?"  cried  Tom. 

"  Within  an  ace  of  death,"  she  answered ;  and  then, 
sitting  by  Mrs.  Markham's  side  and  holding  her  hand, 
she  told  the  whole  story  of  what  had  happened  from  the 
moment  of  her  leaving  her  rooms  to  that  of  her  arrival, 
touching  as  lightly  as  she  could,  for  the  sake  of  her  friend, 
upon  de  Montalt's  conduct. 

The  story  produced  a  profound  effect  upon  them  all; 
and  the  instant  Mrs.  Markham  learnt  that  her  lover  lay 
wounded  and  perhaps  dying,  she  insisted  upon  hurrying 
away  to  his  side. 


CONCLUSION 

IN  two  or  three  days  Dessie  was  quite  herself  again, 
and  her  nerves  had  almost  recovered  from  the  strain  of 
the  preceding  week  and  the  shock  of  the  terrible  encoun- 
ter with  de  Montalt. 

She  was  alone  once  more  in  her  rooms,  but  Mrs.  Mark- 
ham  had  insisted  that  for  a  time  at  least  Dessie  should 
go  and  live  with  her.  She  had  pressed  this  in  one  or  two 
of  the  hurried  and  rather  hysterical  letters  written  from 
St.  John's  Wood,  where  she  remained  watching  and 
nursing  with  unceasing  care  the  last  hours  of  the  man  she 
loved  to  the  end,  despite  the  gross  deception  he  had  prac- 
tised upon  her. 

Tom  Cheriton  and  Mrs.  Davenant  had  had  to  go  back 
to  the  bedside  of  Mr.  Davenant;  and  Dessie  had  mean- 
while refused  to  consider  their  engagement  still  existing. 

"  No,  Tom.  This  man's  death,  if  he  dies,  that  is,  can 
make  no  difference  to  the  real  facts  of  the  case,"  she  said 
to  him.  "  It  may  prevent  a  disclosure  of  them,  though 
that  is  not  certain,  because  the  way  in  which  he  has  met 
his  end  may  provoke  an  exhaustive  investigation,  and 
cause  everything  to  be  made  public.  But  even  if  not,  if 
nothing  is  found  out,  I  am  still  what  I  knew  myself  to 
be  when  I  told  you  before  I  could  never  be  your  wife. 
You  have  a  future  before  you ;  and  the  possibility  of  your 

301 


302  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

wife's  sister  having  to  stand  for  trial  for  such  a  charge 
would  make  our  life  wretched.  It  would  mine.  There 
would  be  a  perpetual  shadow  between  us." 

"And  there  would  be  none,  I  suppose,  if  we  were 
apart  ?  "  He  smiled  in  his  usual  cheery  way,  and  then 
added,  "  I'm  not  going  to  be  such  a  donkey  as  to  argue 
with  you  when  you're  in  this  serious  sort  of  mood.  I 
haven't  time:  I  must  get  back  to  that  poor  old  chap  at 
the  Smoke-hole,  who  will  be  groaning  away  every  tedious 
second  that  we're  absent  from  him.  There's  no  hurry 
about  a  thing  of  this  sort.  But  I  have  an  idea,  and  I'm 
very  much  mistaken  if  the  next  time  I  kiss  you  " — and 
he  did  it  despite  her  protesting  cry  of  "  Tom !  " — "  you'll 
have  a  very  different  story  to  tell.  And  then  I  shall  pun- 
ish— oh !  I  will  punish  you,  and  humble  that  pride  of 
yours :  roll  it  in  the  dirt  and  trample  on  it — for  I'll  make 
you  my  wife  about  six  months  earlier  than  we  ever 
thought  possible,  and  then — "  he  finished  with  a  suc- 
cession of  threatening  shakes  of  the  head.  "  But  now, 
good-bye — oh,  I  forgot,  I  mustn't  kiss  you  again,  or  it 
would  be  '  the  next  time,'  and  I'm  not  ready  yet  to  make 
you  change  your  decision."  He  pressed  both  her  hands 
warmly,  and  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  cried,  "  Now,  mind, 
we're  just  as  much  engaged  as  ever,"  and  with  that  he 
went. 

Daphne,  "  Nurse  Morland  "  again,  left  for  the  north 
the  next  day,  to  pick  up  the  gray  threads  of  her  nursing 
life  there,  where  for  the  moment  she  had  dropped  them 
to  unravel  the  scarlet  tangle  of  the  past  troubles,  in  order 
to  help  Dessie.  But  before  she  left  she  did  one  thing 
unknown  to  her  sister.  She  wrote  a  long  statement  of 
the  actual  facts  of  the  death  of  the  man  whose  murder  she 
was  supposed  to  have  committed,  and  gave  it  to  Tom 
Cheriton. 


Conclusion  303 

"  If  this  man,  Colimbert,  de  Montalt,  as  he  calls  himself, 
should  be  conscious  before  his  death,  try  to  get  this  read 
over  to  him,  and  let  him,  if  he  will,  attest  its  truth.  He 
is  a  creature  of  the  strangest  impulses,  and  it  is  not  at 
all  unlikely  that  Mrs.  Markham  could  influence  him  to 
tell  all  he  knows  of  the  facts." 

Tom  Cheriton  saw  the  prudence  of  this  step,  and  after 
a  little  conference  with  Mrs.  Markham  entrusted  the 
paper  to  her,  telling  her  exactly  what  to  do  in  the  event 
of  the  man  giving  any  signs  of  willingness  to  make  such 
an  act  of  tardy  reparation.  Sir  Edmund  Landale  was  also 
told;  and  as  he  was  a  magistrate,  he  promised  to  remain 
close  by  until  the  man's  end,  so  as  to  take  his  depositions 
if  possible. 

This  was  what  Cheriton  had  had  in  his  thoughts  when 
bidding  Dessie  good-bye;  but  she  knew  nothing  of  it, 
and  spent  the  two  or  three  days  that  followed  the  events 
at  St.  John's  Wood  in  trying  to  plan  out  what  her  future 
was  likely  to  be.  She  began  to  do  a  little  work  again, 
and  soon  commenced  to  think  she  would  be  able  to  slip 
back  into  the  old  groove,  now  that  the  terror  which  de 
Montalt  had  caused  was  removed. 

She  was  a  good  deal  puzzled  what  to  do  with  the  rubies. 
She  had  put  them  back  in  the  safe  with  the  papers,  and 
now  that  their  full  history  was  known,  was  anxious  to 
restore  them.  But  she  left  her  decision  over  until  she 
should  have  an  opportunity  of  consulting  Cheriton;  and 
the  thought  that  now  she  could  do  this,  because  there 
was  no  longer  even  a  vestige  of  concealment  between 
them,  was  very  pleasant. 

She  could  not  marry  him,  of  course.  Her  decision  was 
firm  on  that  point;  very  firm  and  resolute  indeed.  But 
the  remembrance  of  his  last  words,  that  he  would  make 
her  change  that  decision,  was  nevertheless  very  sweet 


304  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

and  grateful  to  her.  It  would  be  delightful  to  have  him 
as  a  friend — a  dear,  intimate,  close,  sympathising  friend, 
to  whom  she  could  turn  in  any  moments  of  trouble  or 
worry,  and  make  sure  of  getting  sound  advice  and 
comfort. 

There  would  come  a  time  when  he  would  marry,  of 
course,  and  she  was  shrewd  enough  to  foresee  that  that 
might  spell  separation.  Wives  don't  care  to  take  to  their 
hearts  their  husbands'  old  friends.  But  he  might  marry 
a  woman  who  would  have  sense  enough  to — and  when 
she  reached  that  point,  Dessie  generally  left  the  reverie 
to  take  care  of  itself,  and  with  a  reflection  that  in  any  case 
the  marriage  could  not  be  yet,  she  would  turn  to  do  some 
practical  work,  consoling  herself  with  the  thought  that 
that  at  any  rate  would  progress. 

Just  at  that  juncture  the  proofs  of  one  of  her  stories 
began  to  pour  in  upon  her,  and  one  or  two  commissions 
for  articles  and  short  stories  came.  She  was  thus  kept 
very  busy,  and  the  days  slipped  away  until  she  was  one 
day  aroused  to  the  fact  that  a  whole  week  had  passed,  and 
not  a  line  or  message  had  come  from  Tom  Cheriton. 

It  was,  of  course,  quite  right  and  proper  that  it  should 
be  so,  she  told  herself,  as  she  had  of  her  own  accord 
broken  off  the  engagement ;  but  still — it  was  a  little  dis- 
appointing, and  the  letterless  breakfast  on  the  eighth 
morning  was  very  tasteless  and  insipid  and  quite  un- 
appetising. But  she  shook  off  her  depression  and  set 
to  work  after  breakfast  with  a  will. 

She  had  not  done  much,  however,  when  she  was  in- 
terrupted by  the  sound  of  footsteps  running  quickly  up 
the  staircase.  They  had  a  very  familiar  sound ;  so  much 
so,  indeed,  that  before  they  reached  the  door,  a  great  light 
of  expectant  pleasure  had  filled  her  eyes,  and  she  turned 
round  with  a  face  that  was  beaming  with  joy.  But  she 


Conclusion  305 

recollected  Herself  in  time,  drove  the  light  out  of  her 
eyes,  turned  back  to  her  work  and  went  on  writing,  so 
busily  occupied  and  deeply  buried  in  her  subject  that 
when  the  knock  came  on  the  panel  she  cried,  "  Come 
in,"  in  a  pre-occupied,  routine  tone,  and  did  not  even 
raise  her  head  from  the  table. 

"  Put  whatever  it  is  down  on  the  table,"  she  said,  not 
turning  her  head,  though  her  eyes  were  dancing  with 
light. 

A  loud  thump,  as  of  something  set  noisily  down,  a 
louder  opening  and  slamming  to  of  the  door,  and  then 
silence. 

Bessie's  heart  gave  a  little  throb  when  the  door 
slammed;  but  she  would  not  look  round.  She  waited 
and  listened,  and  with  a  laugh  said  aloud: 

"  Strange,  that  messenger  seems  to  have  taken  off  his 
feet  to  go  downstairs  without  making  a  noise  " ;  and  she 
pushed  her  chair  back  as  if  to  get  up. 

But  before  she  could  do  so,  there  was  a  hearty  laugh, 
one  that  she  knew  well,  and  a  pair  of  arms  were  round 
her,  taking  possession  of  her  with  a  natural  masterfulness 
that  evidenced  long  practice. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,"  she  cried.  "  But  messengers,  even  if 
they  lose  their  feet,  mustn't  lose  their  heads  in  this  way. 
This  is  altogether  wrong,  Tom.  And  I  can't  allow  it. 
I'm  very  angry." 

'"  I  know  it's  wrong,  Dess,  but  there's  nobody  to  tell 
about  it ;  and  really  I  am  a  messenger,  a  porter,  or  what 
you  like  this  morning.  I've  come  to  deliver  something, 
though  I  couldn't  put  it  on  the  table." 

a  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  not  quite  so  innocent  and 
ingenuous  as  she  seemed,  for  she  had  been  thinking  much 
about  the  next  kiss  that  he  had  promised. 

"It's  this,"  and  he  gave  her  the  kiss.     "And  now 


306  The  Heritage  of  Peril 


for  the  change  of  decision  and  your  supreme  humilia- 
tion." 

"Really?"  she  asked,  not  looking  a  bit  humiliated  or 
ashamed,  but  quite  radiant. 

"  Really !  "  he  answered ;  and  then  in  her  delight  she 
kissed  him;  she  couldn't  help  it.  She  was  so  pleased 
to  see  him.  He  had  been  away  a  whole  week,  and  she 
had  to  scold  him  for  that,  so  that  she  must  just  give  him 
one  kiss  first — only  as  a  friend. 

"And  now  sweetheart,  having  settled  our  preliminaries 
and  mutually  recognised  our  credentials,  to  business." 
He  laughed  again,  stole  another  kiss,  and  then  sat  down. 

"  Why  haven't  I  had  a  line  from  you  all  this  week?" 
he  asked. 

"  Why  haven't  I  heard  from  you,  you  mean,"  was  the 
answering  question. 

"  I've  been  waiting.  I  couldn't  write  to  an  obstinate 
young  woman  who  positively  refused  to  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  me.  But  I've  done  better  than  write 
to  you — I've  settled  everything,  and  actually  got  my 
uncle's  consent." 

"  Consent  to  what  ?  "  asked  Dessie,  smiling,  colouring, 
and  looking  down. 

"  If  you  affect  that  innocence  again  I'll  kiss  you  and 
rumple  your  hair,"  he  said,  laughing.  "  What  should 
he  consent  to  but  our  marriage  ?  " 

"  I  told  you  that  was  impossible,  Tom."  She  was 
serious  now. 

"  I  know  you  did,  and  I  laughed  at  you  for  it.  So  I 
do  now.  But  our  talk  musn't  be  all  laugh.  There's  a 
smirch  of  blood  and  a  touch  of  death  about  the  thing 
that  are  anything  but  mirthful.  That  fellow's  dead ;  died 
last  night.  Landale  wired  for  me  to  come  up  yesterday." 


Conclusion  307 

rtWKy  wasn't  I  told?  I  could  have  gone  to  poor 
Dora." 

"  You  can  go  to  her  in  a  few  minutes.  It  was  only 
late  at  night ;  and  Mrs.  Markham  is  in  bed  utterly  fagged 
out  and  done  for.  She's  better  asleep  for  some  hours 
yet.  She's  taken  this  thing  very  badly.  When  I  saw 
her  last  night  she  seemed  almost  in  a  state  of  collapse. 
But  she  has  done  splendidly  for  us.  She  got  the  man  to 
tell  the  whole  truth  and  to  swear  to  it  as  a  deposition 
before  Landale  as  a  J.  P." 

"And  what  is  the  truth  ?  "  asked  Dessie,  anxiously. 

"  He  murdered  the  Indian  himself — Maiwand,  or  what- 
ever his  name  was — and  contrived  to  put  the  blame  on  to 
your  sister.  It's  an  ugly  story,"  said  Cheriton,  grimly, 
"  and  there's  no  need  to  dwell  on  the  details  of  it.  The 
statement  clears  up  the  mystery  and  no  more  will  be  heard 
of  it — so  far  as  your  sister  is  concerned." 

Dessie  had  paled  a  little  in  her  eagerness  and  uncer- 
tainty ;  but  as  she  looked  into  her  companion's  eyes,  with 
the  knowledge  that  now  all  bar  between  them  was  really 
swept  away,  her  eyes  began  to  brighten  and  her  cheeks 
to  flush,  and  love  bore  down  all  other  emotions. 

"And  what  about  that  decision  now?  "  he  asked,  read- 
ing her  thoughts  easily  enough,  and  smiling. 

"Ah,  how  glad  I  am !  "  she  burst  out,  half  hysterically, 
while  the  tears  of  sheer  gladness  stood  in  her  eyes  as 
she  hid  her  blushes  on  his  breast. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  which  neither  cared  to  break. 

"  One  act  of  justice  we  must  do/'  said  Cheriton,  at 
length.  "  Give  Landale  credit  for  the  change  in  him. 
He  has  behaved  splendidly  in  this,  and  I  am  sure  is 
mightily  sorry  for  his  part.  That  night's  work  scared 
him  beyond  all  description." 


30 8  The  Heritage  of  Peril 

tl  If  he  will  only  leave  me  alone  I'll  be  thankful  enough 
to  him,"  said  Dessie,  quickly. 

"  He  has  done  well  in  this,  child,  and  I  believe  in  him 
now.  So  must  you." 

"-I  bear  him  no  malice.  He  was  more  dupe  than 
knave.  But  -I  can't  say  I  have,  or  ever  can  have,  any  other 
feeling  toward  him  than  a  desire  never  to  set  eyes  on 
him  again." 

"  There'll  be  no  chance  of  that,  for  some  time  at  least 
— he's  going  out  to  the  Colonies  for  a  long  trip." 

"  And  now,  what  about  the  jewels — the  Rohilkund  Ru- 
bies? How  am  I  to  get  rid  of  them?  I  am  afraid 
of  them,  Tom.  Their  whole  history  is  evil  and  blood- 
sfied." 

"  Well,  I've  thought  of  that,  too ;  and  shall  try  to  find 
a  small  counterpoise.  We'll  give  them  up  to  their  right- 
ful owners ;  but  we'll  get  the  reward  that  was  offered  and 
we'll  give  it  to  a  hospital  for  a  Dessie  Merrion  Ward." 

The  thought  pleased  the  girl,  and  she  smiled;  then 
mindful  of  her  friend,  she  said: 

"  I  must  go  to  Dora  now,  Tom ;  she  may  want  help." 

"  In  one  minute.  You've  only  three  things  to  do  first : 
to  say  when  you'll  come  down  to  the  Smoke-hole  and 
quiet  the  impatience  of  a  convalescent  but  irritable  in- 
valid, fix  a  date  when  you  will  make  the  last  change  in 
your  name,  and — give  me  a  kiss  to  seal  the  two  contracts. 

She  smiled  again  at  this,  and  blushed  much  more  deeply 
than  before,  and  seeing  it,  he  took  her  into  his  arms  that 
she  might  have  time  to  recover  her  self-possession. 

And  when  he  let  her  out  again,  both  the  contracts  had 
been  agreed  to  and  sealed  with  many  seals. 

THE  END. 


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developed  with  an  immense  amount  of  humor. 


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TRIBUNE     VERSE 


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Tales  of  the  Ex-Tanks 

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By  CLARENCE  LOUIS  CULLEN 

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from  many  odd  and  humorous  predicaments,  in  many 
sections  of  the  United  States,  after  having  played  too 
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from  the  mallet-like  fist  of  that  top-notch  heavyweight  of 
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WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 

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A     000127364     8 


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